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t'BRARY 

UNIVERS/TY  OF 
CALIFORNIA 


AUSTIN   ELLIOT 


HENRY   KINGSLEY'S   NOVELS. 


Uniform  edition.     16mo,  price  per  volume,  $1.0(k 


RAVENSHOE.    Two  volumes. 

AUSTIN  ELLIOT.     One  volume. 

THE  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  GEOFFRY  HAMLYN. 
Tw/o  volumes. 

LEIGHTON  COURT.    On*  volume. 


AUSTIN  ELLIOT 


HENRY    KINGSLEY 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S   SONS 

1903 


TO 
THE  REVEREND 

JOHN  MILL  CHANTER. 

AND 

CHARLOTTE    CHANTER. 

THIS  BOOK 

IS  AFFECTIONATELY   DEDICATED  BY 

THEIR  BROTHER, 

THE  AUTHOR. 


AUSTIN    ELLIOT 


Chapter  I 

It  so  happened  that,  in  the  early  spring  of  the  year 
1789,  three  young  men,  each  equally  full  of  health,  hope, 
honour,  courage,  and  curiosity,  separated  at  the  gates  of 
Christ  Church  College,  Oxford,  to  pursue  divergent  paths 
across  that  world,  which  at  that  time  seemed,  to  those 
three,  only  a  sunny  fairyland  lying  betwixt  them  and  the 
grave  —  only  some  enchanted  land  full  of  glorious  advent- 
ures, and  they  three  young  knights  ready  to  achieve  them. 

To  one  of  the  three  —  the  youngest  and  the  most  famous, 
by  name  Jenkinson  —  we  shall  only  allude  incidentally. 
With  regard  to  the  other  two,  George  Hilton  and  James 
Elliot,  we  shall  have  to  be  a  little  more  explicit. 

George  Hilton,  the  handsomer  and  cleverer  of  the  two, 
went  abroad,  and,  having  met  his  friend  Jenkinson  at  the 
storming  of  the  Bastile,  came  home  again  in  September, 
bringing  with  him  a  lovely,  fragile,  little  being  of  a  French 
wife,  a  daughter  of  the  Due  de  Mazagan,  who  had  been 
pleased  that  his  daughter  should  marry  this  fine  young 
English  merchant,  and  be  out  of  the  way  of  those  troubles, 
which  he  saw  gathering  so  darkly,  and  so  swiftly,  over  the 
head  of  his  devoted  order. 

He  could  not  foresee  that  she  would  be  dead  before 
Christmas ;  still  less,  that  in  the  Conciergerie  and  on  the 
guillotine,  he  should  rejoice  that  there  was  one  loving 
heart  the  less  to  mourn  for  him.  But  so  it  was  :  the  poor, 
gentle,  happy,  loving  little  creature  died  in  her  husband's 


Austin  Elliot 

arms,  almost  before  that  husband  knew  how  well  he  loved 
her.  The  grand  old  Duke  made  his  last  bow,  when  he 
took  precedence  of  his  old  friend  the  Marquis  de  Varly,  on 
the  scaffold,  looked  at  the  sovereign  people  through  an 
eye-glass,  shrugged  his  shoulders  with  infinite  contempt, 
and  died.  The  gallant  young  Vicomte  Tourbillon,  who 
should  have  been  duke  —  George's  dear  friend  —  yielded 
to  circumstances,  and  entered  the  Republican  army ;  and 
George  Hilton,  disgusted  with  the  world,  from  sheer  want 
of  anything  to  do  or  care  about,  plunged  headlong  into 
commerce. 

Bringing  apparently  a  keen,  clear  head,  a  reckless  cour- 
age, and  a  vigilance  which  slept  not  by  day  or  by  night,  to 
the  assistance  of  his  father's  house,  he  tided  that  house 
successfully  through  those  terrible  revolutionary  years,  and 
raised  it  at  last  to  be  one  of  the  great  commercial  houses 
in  England.  From  very  shortly  after  he  assumed  his  place 
as  an  active  unit  in  the  firm,  his  father  and  his  father's  old 
partner  submitted  to  him  ;  and  from  that  time  these  two 
terrified  old  men  found  themselves  dragged  (if  one  may 
use  such  an  expression)  by  the  heels  through  a  seething 
whirlpool  of  audacious  speculation,  powerless  and  hope- 
less, only  to  emerge  again,  with  wealth  and  credit  such  as 
they  had  never  dreamt  of,  before  this  valiant,  gloomy 
young  man  had  joined  them.  There  might  be  terror  on 
'Change,  or  panic  in  Lombard  Street ;  but  though  these 
two  might  sit  cowering  in  their  chairs,  fluttering  papers 
which  they  scarcely  understood,  in  their  trembling  fingers, 
yet  there  was  always  one  figure  before  them,  in  which  they 
felt  forced  to  trust,  the  figure  of  George  Hilton  —  the  figure 
of  a  tall,  handsome  man  in  dark  clothes,  with  a  set  austere 
face,  who  rarely  spoke,  into  whose  eyes  they  gazed  with 
a  look  of  awe,  and  a  look  of  supplication  painful  to  wit- 
ness. Always  kind,  he  was  always  undemonstrative,  and 
they  looked  up  to  him  as  some  god  who  held  their  fate  in 
his  hands. 

Once  he  broke  out.    When  an  old  clerk  came  into  the 


Austin  Elliot 

room  where  they  sat,  and,  with  a  face  only  more  ashy  pale 
than  their  own,  told  them  the  terrible  disaster  of  Austerlitz, 
the  two  old  men  fell  to  feebly  wailing ;  but  the  younger, 
leaping  from  his  chair,  gave  a  wild  hurrah,  which  made 
the  respectable  old  ledgers  on  the  shelves  shake  the  dust 
off  their  leaves  against  him. 

People  began  to  talk.  They  said,  "  This  man  married  a 
Frenchwoman.  His  favourite  brother-in-law  has  notori- 
ously deserted  the  traditions  of  his  family,  and  become  a 
rabid  Buonapartist.  He  is  a  colonel  in  the  Guards.  This 
man,  Hilton,  is  making  money  in  some  underhand  way  by 
means  of  his  brother-in-law."  It  was  partly  true.  George 
Hilton,  with  a  keen  and  well-judged  confidence  in  French 
arms,  had  advanced  an  immense  sum  shortly  before  this 
to  his  brother-in-law,  with  which  to  speculate  in  the  French 
Funds.  Austerlitz  had  been  won,  the  coalition  broken, 
and  the  Hiltons  had  pocketed  forty  thousand  pounds. 
Since  Lord  Loughborough  and  Sir  John  Scott  passed  their 
Treason  Act  in  1792,  no  man  had  driven  his  coach  and 
four  through  it  to  greater  profit  than  George  Hilton. 

Some  sharp  and  traitorous  trading  went  on  in  those 
times ;  and  we  are  sorry  to  say  that  the  house  of  Hilton 
and  Co.  were  always  looked  upon  as  being  deeply  engaged 
in  transactions  which,  even  by  the  commercial  world  in 
those  days,  were  considered  dangerous  and  odd.  Even  at 
that  time,  when  certain  trades  were  paralysed,  and  there 
were  so  many  needy  merchants  ready  to  sacrifice  almost 
any  principle  to  keep  themselves  afloat,  the  house  of  Hil- 
ton and  Co.,  with  their  enormously  increasing  wealth,  were 
looked  on  askance.  They  always  seemed  to  have  such 
wonderfully  correct  information  from  abroad.  The  Jews 
might  follow  George  Hilton  about  the  Exchange  with  bent 
body  and  sliding  foot,  to  listen  and  see  whether  some 
priceless  hint  might  not  fall  from  him  ;  but  the  Christians 
were  only  distantly  polite  to  him,  although,  when  he  had 
once  been  known  to  take  a  commercial  step,  there  were 
hundreds  eagerly  ready  to  follow  his  example. 

3 


Austin  Elliot 

We  have  hardly  to  do  with  the  ways  by  which  his  enor- 
mous fortune  was  made  :  our  business  is  more  with  what 
ultimately  became  of  it.  There  are  plenty  of  houses,  emi- 
nently respectable  now,  whose  books,  from  1790  to  181 5, 
would  hardly  stand  a  closer  examination  than  those  of 
Hilton  and  Co. 

And  also  the  history  of  the  accumulation  of  this  fortune 
must  be  told  ;  because,  in  the  mad  and  successful  pursuit 
of  his  wealth,  George  Hilton  had  reached  the  age  of  fifty 
years  before  he  bethought  him  that  there  was  no  one  to 
inherit  it. 

The  gold  that  he  had  wallowed  in  for  thirty  years  had 
left  its  dross  upon  him;  and  the  George  Hilton  of  18 19 
was  a  sadly  different  man  from  the  George  Hilton  of  1789. 
The  sarcastic  young  dandy  had  developed  into  a  cold,  cal- 
culating man  of  fifty;  a  man  who  seldom  spoke  in  the 
House,  but  always  shortly  and  to  the  purpose  ;  a  man  who 
had  refused  office,  some  said  ;  an  odd  man  ;  a  man  no  one 
liked  very  much,  but  a  man  so  careful  in  his  facts,  that 
when  he  spoke  he  put  every  one  else,  save  four  or  five,  in 
a  flutter ;  a  man  who  would  contradict  the  King  on  his 
throne,  and  had  never  had  a  genial  smile  or  a  joke  for 
any  man  in  the  House,  save  for  one.  Lord  Hawkesbury. 
After  1806  he  laughed  and  joked  no  more  in  Parliament. 
Lord  Hawkesbury  never  forgave  him  the  Austerlitz  affair 
before  mentioned.  He  kept  on  speaking  terms  with  him 
for  a  time,  but  after  his  removal  into  the  House  of  Lords, 
in  1808,  George  Hilton  found  himself  without  a  friend  in 
the  House,  and  only  one  friend  in  the  world  —  that  is  to 
say,  James  Elliot,  the  third  of  those  we  saw  at  Christ 
Church  Gate  in  1789. 

In  1819,  then,  he  married.  The  wife  he  selected  was  a 
Frenchwoman.  She  was  a  cousin  of  his  first  wife's,  and  a 
daughter  of  an  emigre  count,  Commilfaut,  very  little,  very 
pretty,  and  an  intensely  devout  Huguenot  in  religion. 
This  marriage  Vv^as  a  happier  one  than  his  first.  She  was 
soon  the  mother  of  two  children,  Eleanor  and  Robert. 


Austin  Elliot 


Chapter  II 

With,  perhaps,  less  energy  and  talent  than  his  friend 
George  Hilton,  James  Elliot,  the  second  of  the  two  men 
mentioned  in  the  first  page  of  this  book,  contrived,  in  after 
life,  to  land  himself  in  a  higher  position  in  the  world  than 
did  his  friend.  His  taste  would  have  led  him  into  political 
life — for  who  could  have  been  at  Christ  Church  with  Can- 
ning and  Jenkinson,  and  not  have  been  ambitious  ? — but 
his  fortune  was  far  too  meagre  to  allow  him  think  of  it. 
He  remained  at  his  college,  living  on  his  studentship  and 
his  small  fortune  very  happily  indeed ;  keeping  up  a  con- 
stant correspondence  with  the  richer  and  better-born  men 
who  had  gone  out  into  the  world  to  fight  in  the  great 
battle  which  was  then  raging. 

So  his  politics  were  confined  to  the  common-room.  But 
sometimes  he  appeared  before  the  world  and  had  his  say 
with  the  rest.  He  wrote  a  pamphlet  once  which  made  a 
sensation  ;  he  found  this  very  charming.  Here  was  a  way 
to  make  himself  heard.  He  wrote  another  pamphlet  and 
then  another.  They  were  all  good.  His  assumed  signature 
began  to  be  looked  for,  and  people  began  to  ask  who  he 
was.  These  pamphlets  of  his  were  very  humorous  and 
full  of  stinging  allusions,  which,  we  daresay,  made  men 
laugh  then,  but  which  now  fall  dead  on  the  ear  of  any  but 
a  very  old  man  indeed.  Some  of  them  have  absurd  titles, 
such  as  one  (1801),  "  Choking  the  Black  Dog  with  Butter;  " 
and  again,  same  date,  "  Shall  we  have  the  Doctor's  Boy 
or  the  Constable  ?  "  By  which  last  delicate  allusion  to 
Lord  Sidmouth,  it  appears,  not  that  it  is  of  any  great  con- 
sequence, that  he  was  in  favour  of  a  vigorous  prosecution 
of  the  war,  and  that  his  enthusiasm  was  slightly  too  strong 
for  his  manners. 

The  art  of  pamphleteering  becomes,  like  most  others, 
more  easy  by  practice.     James  Elliot  got  to  a  great  per- 

5 


Austin  Elliot 

fection  in  the  art.  He  had  considerable  humour,  and  so 
his  half-truths  were  put  forward  under  a  cloud  of  ridicule, 
and  before  people  had  done  laughing,  the  question  had 
gone  by.  He  never  spared  but  one  man,  Mr.  Jenkinson. 
Once  this  gentleman  (developed  into  Lord  Hawkesbury 
since  1796)  was  accused  of  having  written  one  of  these 
pamphlets  himself,  but  the  very  next  one  which  appeared 
under  the  same  signature  entirely  dissipated  that  notion. 
Lord  Hawkesbury  came  in  for  his  share  of  good-humoured 
railing  abuse  with  the  rest.  It  was  evident  that  this  man, 
this  "  Beta,"  as  he  chose  to  sign  himself,  was  a  man  of 
great  ability.  Nobody  was  safe  with  him.  His  principles 
wanted  fixing:  he  had  no  principles  at  present.  They 
must  really  be  fixed.  Such  a  man  was  lost  to  the  public 
business  of  the  country. 

In  1808,  then,  his  old  friend.  Lord  Liverpool,  with  the 
full  consent  of  all  his  colleagues,  offered  place  to  his  old 
friend  and  correspondent  James  Elliot ;  the  place  of  In- 
spector of  Shoals  and  Quicksands,  worth  ;^  1,500  a  year. 
And  of  all  the  appointments  made  by  the  good  Lord 
Liverpool  during  his  long  tenure  of  office,  this  was  perhaps 
the  best.  It  was  made  in  quieter  and  less  anxious  times 
than  those  which  followed — in  the  merry  old  war  times, 
when  a  man's  friend  was  his  friend  still,  and  one  knew 
one's  friend  from  one's  enemy — when  one's  heart  could 
warm  up  at  thinking  of  dear  old  Jim  Elliot's  delight  at 
getting  this  place,  and  one  still  had  wit  or  folly  enough  left 
in  one  to  put  a  few  lines  of  doggrel  into  the  postscript  of 
the  letter  giving  him  the  offer  of  it — in  the  times  which 
came  before  the  Peace,  and  before  those  weary  fifteen 
years  when  one  sat  and  drove,  or  tried  to  drive,  four  such 
terrible  horses  as  Peel,  Wellington,  Huskisson,  and  Can- 
ning, four-in-hand,  only  to  drop  down  dead  from  sheer 
anxiety  and  over-work  at  the  end  of  it  all.  Peace  be  with 
Lord  Liverpool's  ashes  !  We  very  strongly  suspect  him  of 
having  been  a  good  and  noble  man. 

The  last  Lord  High  Inspector  of  the  Shoals  and  Quick- 
6 


Austin  Elliot 

sands  was  Admiral  Sir  Foreland  North,  who  died  in  1707. 
He  accumulated  a  fortune  in  that  office,  and  was  made 
Lord  Sands  of  Godwin.  It  was  found  that  he  had  scan- 
dalously neglected  his  duties,  and  the  peculiar  revenues  of 
the  office  being  found  remunerative,  it  was  put  in  commis- 
sion, my  Lords  of  the  Shoals  and  Quicksands  being  re- 
quired to  pay  an  Inspector  so  much  a  year,  and  to  pocket 
the  rest  of  the  revenues  themselves.  This  was  found  to 
work  very  well ;  it  created  patronage ;  and  the  Inspector 
being  liable  to  forfeiture  of  his  office  for  neglect,  the  work 
was  better  done  than  in  the  old  times. 

The  revenues  of  the  office  of  Lord  High  Commissioner' 
of  the  Shoals  and  Quicksands  were  derived  from  several 
sources.  Heavy  tonnage  dues  were  demanded  from  all 
ships  which  passed  through  the  Needles,  came  within 
three  miles  of  Eddystone  Rock,  passed  St.  Michael's 
Mount  without  letting  fly  topsail-halliards,  threw  empty 
bottles  or  garbage  into  the  sea  within  three  miles  of  any 
one  of  the  Cinque  Ports  (counting  from  Old  Hythe,  and 
including  eight  miles  east  of  Deal),  passed  through  the 
Steat  of  Skye,  and  did  many  other  things  too  tedious  to 
mention.  These  revenues,  though  they  doubtless  cost 
a  great  deal  to  collect,  paid  in  a  great  deal  of  money. 
The  office  might  sometimes  once  a  year  have  a  grand  bat- 
talion day  in  the  Arches,  and  might  have  to  spend  several 
thousand  pounds  in  proving  "  that  John  Smith,  of  the 
Hope  schooner,  master  mariner,  was  within  three  miles  of 
the  port  of  Sandwich  when,  on  the  day  aforesaid,  he  did 
then  and  there,  not  having  the  fear  of  God  before  his  eyes, 
wilfully,  maliciously,  and  devilishly,  cast  into  the  sea,  sun- 
dry, that  is  to  say,  five  hundred  glass  bottles,  against  the 
peace  of  our  Lord  the  King,  &c.,  &c.;  "  yet,  in  spite  of  all 
this,  the  revenues  of  the  office  were,  for  many  years,  a 
very  pretty  provision  for  five  lords,  and  an  inspector  to 
do  their  work.  There  were  good  years  and  bad  years. 
Sometimes  John  Smith  would  prove  his  case — prove  "  that 
he  was  a  good  five  miles  off  Sandwich ;  that,  being  dis- 

7 


Austin  Elliot 

guised  in  liquor,  he  had  only  thrown  his  empty  brandy- 
bottle  at  his  apprentice's  head,  and  that  it  had  gone  acci- 
dentally overboard,  and  had  floated  within  the  prescribed 
limits ; "  in  which  case,  my  lords  would  take  it  up  to 
Chancery,  and  have  to  pay.  But  the  Inspector  always  got 
his  salary ;  and  my  lords  made  a  pretty  good  thing  of  it 
on  the  whole. 

But  after  sixty  years  or  so,  master  mariners  began  to 
have  the  fear  of  God  before  their  eyes,  to  go  round  the 
Isle  of  Wight,  to  let  fly  topsail-halliards  in  the  right  place, 
to  keep  clear  of  the  Eddystone,  to  kick  the  apprentice  into 
the  lee-scuppers  before  they  threw  the  brandy-bottle  at 
him — to  conform,  in  fact,  more  or  less,  to  all  laws,  human 
and  divine ;  which  proceedings  had  this  result :  that  the 
Lords  of  the  Shoals  and  Quicksands  were  left  without 
money  to  pay  their  Inspector.  It  became  necessary  to 
supplement  their  revenues  by  a  parliamentary  grant,  which 
was  done.  But  the  parliamentary  grant  was  so  small, 
that,  since  1795,  the  position  of  a  Lord  of  the  Shoals  and 
Quicksands  had  been  merely  an  honorary  one.  Parlia- 
ment paid  their  Inspector.  Sometimes  they  got  twenty 
pounds  apiece ;  sometimes  they  did  not.  But  Govern- 
ment allowed  them  a  yacht,  and  the  Inspector  had  the 
use  of  it. 

When  Mr.  Elliot  took  the  place,  in  1808,  he  found 
everything  in  confusion.  There  were  fifty  squabbles  on 
hand  with  the  Lords  of  the  Admiralty  on  the  one  hand, 
and  with  the  Trinity  Board  on  the  other.  He  set  to  work 
like  a  young  giant,  although  he  was  now  forty  years  of 
age,  and  brought  everything  into  order. 

He  had  no  special  knowledge  of  his  subject,  but  he  soon 
knew  more  about  it  than  any  one.  When  a  man  has 
learnt  how  to  learn,  he  can  soon  learn  anything.  The 
"  experts  "  connected  with  his  office,  coasting  skippers, 
pilots,  lighthouse-keepers,  and  such  people,  came  to  him 
with  their  facts,  put  them  before  him,  and  looked  at  him, 
as  much  as  to  say,  "  Here  are  our  facts,  can  you  generalize 
8 


Austin  Elliot 

from  them  ?  "  They  very  soon  found  that  he  could.  They 
were  perfectly  contented.  It  was  a  very  good  appoint- 
ment. 

My  Lords  of  the  Admiralty  were  high,  and  the  Trinity 
brothers  were  mighty  with  him.  There  had  been  "  heats  " 
between  these  two  great  bodies  on  the  one  side,  and  the 
Commissioners  of  Shoals  and  Quicksands  on  the  other,  in 
which  my  Lords  of  the  Shoals  had  left  their  Inspector  to 
bear  the  brunt.  The  story  of  my  Lords  of  the  Admiralty 
having  threatened  to  fire  into  the  yacht  of  the  Shoals  and 
Quicksands,  on  the  Motherbank,  must  be  untrue,  for  the 
Admiralty  yacht  had  no  gun  on  board.  Therefore,  how 
could  they  have  threatened  to  fire  ? 

Mr.  Elliot  composed  all  these  difficulties,  and  got  his 
office  into  noble  order.  His  beloved  Lord  Liverpool  used 
to  point  to  him  with  pride  :  "  My  man,  gentlemen." 

But  what  with  soothing  my  Lords  of  the  Admiralty,  and 
doing  battle  with  the  Trinity  House,  for  leave  to  do  their 
work,  it  was  five  years  before  he  thought  of  marrying. 
When  he  did  think  of  it,  there  was  no  doubt  about  the 
lady  whatever.  He  married  a  certain  Miss  Beverley,  a 
lady  of  thirty-one,  gentle  and  good,  like  himself ;  and  on 
his  forty-ninth  birthday  she  bore  him  a  noble  boy. 


Chapter  III 

It  is  with  the  fortunes  of  this  boy,  Austin  Elliot,  and 
with  the  fortunes  of  George  Hilton's  little  girl,  Eleanor, 
that  we  have  principally  to  concern  ourselves. 

Mr.  Elliot  had  lived  in  an  atmosphere  of  politics  ever 
since  he  was  nineteen,  and  had  known,  and  known  well, 
some,  nay  most,  of  the  leading  men  of  his  time.  He  had 
his  grievance,  his  crotchet,  like  most  other  men,  good  or 
bad ;  and  his  grievance  was  this :  That  he,  James  Elliot, 
might  have  succeeded  in  public  life,  if  he  had  not  been  so 

9 


Austin  Elliot 

unfortunately  poor.  He  was  very  likely  right.  No  one 
will  ever  know  whether  he  was  right  or  not ;  the  thought 
was  a  little,  carefully  unexpressed,  grievance  to  him.  He 
never  got  sour  over  it,  he  never  expressed  it  in  words; 
but  the  thought  that  he  had  been  only  prevented  from 
holding  a  very  high  place  in  the  world  by  his  poverty,  was 
at  times  a  source  of  vexation  to  him,  more  particularly 
whenever  he  saw  a  beggar  on  horseback,  or  a  fool  in  a 
high  place. 

He  was  poor  no  longer  :  he  had  a  good  place,  his  wife 
succeeded  to  a  very  good  fortune,  and  his  boy,  Austin,  was 
growing  to  be  one  of  the  handsomest,  cleverest,  bravest 
lads  ever  seen  —  a  boy  who  at  ten  years  old  showed,  as 
his  father  thought,  most  singular  and  precocious  talent. 

At  this  time,  when  Austin  was  ten  years  old,  and  when 
there  was  no  doubt  of  his  being  a  very  clever  boy  of  his 
age,  Mr.  Elliot  took  the  great  resolution  of  his  life.  That 
boy  should  be  educated  as  a  statesman.  "  That  boy  should 
be  prime —  Hush — don't  let  us  talk  nonsense,"  said  Mr. 
Elliot  to  himself,  with  a  radiant  smile,  as  he  sat  one  night 
over  the  fire,  and  saw  various  things  in  the  hot  coals. 

The  idea  was  rather  a  grand  one.  Mr.  Elliot's  creed 
was,  that  statesmanship  was  a  trade,  and  that  a  man  must 
serve  his  apprenticeship  to  that  trade  as  to  any  other.  A 
man  should  be  trained  to  politics  early,  if  he  was  going  to 
succeed.  Look  at  Pitt  the  younger.  (He  could  not  have 
read  Lord  Macaulay's  "  Life  of  Pitt ;  "  it  would  have  killed 
him.  Lord  Macaulay's  atrocious  suggestion,  that  Pitt  was 
not  the  most  sublimely  wise  of  the  human  race,  would 
have  cut  the  ground  from  under  his  feet.)  Yes,  a  states- 
man must  be  trained ;  of  that  there  was  not  the  least 
doubt  in  the  world. 

And  he,  James  Elliot,  would  train  and  educate  one. 
His  own  boy.  If  he,  with  his  intricate  knowledge  of  every 
political  twist  and  turn  for  forty  years,  could  not  do  that, 
who  could  }  And  see  the  material  he  had  to  work  on  ; 
was  there  ever  such  a  boy.>    "  Never,"  said  Mr.  Elliot: 

10 


Austin  Elliot 

*'  Seldom,"  say  we.  He  certainly  was  a  boy  of  the  very 
highest  promise,  and  the  man  who  doubted  that  Mr.  Elliot 
would  succeed  in  maldng  a  leading  statesman  of  him  must 
have  been  a  foolish  person.  It  is  no  use  for  that  man  to 
say  that  Mr.  Elliot  did  not  succeed.  By  all  rules  he  should 
have  succeeded,  therefore  the  charge  of  folly  stands. 

So  Mr.  Elliot  was  going  to  educate  his  son  for  a  states- 
man.     But  how  ? 

This  was  the  most  delightful  problem.  The  thought  of 
it  made  Mr.  Elliot's  good  face  glow  with  happiness.  Here 
was  a  beautiful  soul,  a  noble  intellect,  ready  to  receive  any 
impression  whatever.  Mr.  Elliot  worked  at  his  task  with 
a  will,  but  he  perhaps  began  it  a  little  too  early.  The 
young  ambition  must  be  excited  by  the  recital  of  noble 
deeds,  and  so  little  Austin  heard  many  a  long  story  of 
great  debates,  grand  political  tricks,  and  so  on,  which  were 
far  from  interesting.  At  the  same  time,  Mr.  Elliot  was 
very  furious  with  the  conduct  of  a  certain  great  statesman 
on  the  Catholic  question,  and  found  it  rather  pleasant  to 
denounce  him  to  the  wondering  Austin,  who,  at  ten  years 
old,  had  acquired  a  distinct  idea  that  Parliament  was  a 
place  something  like  school :  and  that  Sir  Robert  Peel  was 
a  traitor  many  degrees  worse  than  Guy  Fawkes ;  had  a 
distinct  belief,  indeed,  that,  when  every  one  had  their  due, 
the  Right  Honourable  gentleman  would  be  carried  about 
on  a  chair,  with  his  boots  on  hindside  before,  and  all  the 
straw  coming  out  at  his  knees. 

When  Austin  was  ten  years  old,  his  mother  died,  and 
he  was  left  more  exclusively  to  his  father's  care.  And 
then  these  two  contracted  a  strong  personal  affection  for 
one  another,  which  lasted  to  the  very  end,  and  which  was 
never  clouded  for  one  instant.  It  was  well  for  Austin  to 
remember  that  hereafter ;  well  to  remember  that  he  had 
never  cast  one  shadow  on  his  father's  kind,  gentle  face. 

This  boy  Austin  grew  so  rapidly  in  both  moral  and  phys- 
ical beauty,  that  the  absurd  chimerical  plans  of  his  father 
seemed  to  become,  year  by  year,  more  probable  of  fulfil- 


Austin  Elliot 

ment,  and  his  old  friends  began  to  leave  off  laughing  at 
him  and  to  confine  themselves  to  shaking  their  heads. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  boy  was  not  perfect,  but 
really  he  was  one  of  the  finest  and  noblest  boys  ever  seen. 
He  made  a  great  success  everywhere.  Possibly  it  would 
be  better,  instead  of  cataloguing  his  various  perfections,  to 
ask  you  to  think  of  the  handsomest  and  most  amiable  boy 
you  ever  knew,  and  call  him  Austin  Elliot.  You  will  know 
him  as  a  man  ;  let  us  skip  his  paedeia. 

One  of  Austin's  earliest  recollections  was  that  of  going 
to  play  with  Eleanor  and  Robert  Hilton ;  for,  after  Lord 
Liverpool's  death,  James  Elliot  resumed  his  intimacy  with 
his  old  friend  George  Hilton  once  more.  He  had  always 
kept  up  his  acquaintance  with  him,  but  it  had  not  been 
very  close  for  many  years.  Lord  Liverpool  had  never 
forgotten  the  affair  of  the  French  funds.  It  was  the  sort 
of  thing  that  he  could  not  forget ;  and,  indeed,  it  is  not  a 
pleasant  subject  to  dwell  on.  James  Elliot  never  men- 
tioned George  Hilton's  name  before  him,  but  he  would 
not  throw  his  old  friend  entirely  overboard.  And  after 
Liverpool  and  Canning  died,  with  the  harness  on  their 
backs,  the  world  was  very  lonely  to  him,  and  he  once 
more  grew  intimate  with  his  old  friend,  whom  he  had  al- 
ways tried  to  defend,  even  against  his  own  conscience. 

Eleanor  Hilton  was  not,  as  a  child,  beautiful,  or  even 
pretty.  At  first,  her  features  were  too  square  and  pro- 
noncd ;  but,  from  the  very  first,  she  was  as  gentle,  good, 
and  sensible  as  a  child  might  be.  Robert,  on  the  other 
hand,  was  peevish  and  somewhat  violent.  He  had,  also, 
a  strange  wayward  mendacity  —  at  times  refusing  to  tell  a 
lie  to  save  himself  from  punishment,  at  another  lying  with- 
out an  object.  A  still  more  fatal  vice  had  not  hitherto 
shown  itself,  but  was  developed  afterwards. 

When  Eleanor  was  twelve  and  Robert  ten,  their  mother 
died ;  and,  nearly  at  the  same  time,  Austin  Elliot  went  to 
Eton,  and  Robert  was  left  with  Eleanor  to  the  care  of  a 
governess.    Had  old  Hilton  known  as  much  about  the 

Z2 


Austin  Elliot 

boy,  as  the  governess  and  Eleanor,  he  would  never  have, 
in  all  probability,  sent  the  boy  to  Eton ;  but  so  it  was.  He 
followed  Austin  to  Eton  after  two  years ;  and  we  need 
hardly  say,  after  the  character  we  have  before  given  to 
Austin,  that  he  was  affectionately  kind  to  his  old  play- 
fellow, and  did  all  for  him  he  could.  But  Robert  soon 
began  to  go  wrong :  he  was  always  in  trouble.  Nothing 
serious,  however,  took  place  till  after  several  months. 

There  came  to  Eton  the  very  same  half,  and  to  the  very 
same  house  as  Austin,  a  certain  Lord  Charles  Barty,  of 
the  same  age  as  Austin,  and  by  no  means  unlike  him  in 
person  and  manners.  In  a  very  short  time,  a  great  boy- 
friendship  sprang  up  between  the  two.  In  the  very  first 
letter  he  wrote  to  Eleanor  his  new  friend  was  mentioned, 
in  most  enthusiastic  terms ;  and  his  intimacy  with  this 
friend  seemed  to  increase  as  it  went  on.  It  is  useless  to 
describe  Lord  Charles  Barty  as  a  boy,  for  we  shall  see  him 
hereafter  in  manhood,  in  far  more  terrible  places  than  the 
old  playing-fields,  or  the  Brocas  or  Surly,  or  any  of  those 
places  one  hears  Eton  men  talking  about ;  nevertheless,  it 
is  necessary  to  tell  you  that,  like  Austin,  he  was  a  noble 
and  manly  fellow,  and  that  he  was  as  worthy  of  Austin's 
honest  love  as  Austin  was  of  his. 

When  Robert  Hilton  appeared,  after  two  years  of  friend- 
ship between  these  two,  whether  it  was  through  jealousy, 
or  through  mistrust,  or  what,  it  is  impossible  to  say,  but 
Lord  Charles  Barty  took  a  violent  dislike  to  him.  To  ob- 
viate this,  and  to  interest  his  friend  in  poor  Robert  Hilton, 
Austin  told  him  what  he  had  not  very  long  known  for  him- 
self, that  he  was  in  love  with  Eleanor  Hilton,  and  that  this 
was  her  brother. 

All  the  chivalry  in  Charles  Barty's  heart  fired  up  at  this. 
One  sharp  pang  of  jealousy  shot  through  him  when  Austin 
told  him  that  there  was  one  in  the  world  preferred  to  him- 
self, but  it  was  instantly  smothered  and  killed.  He  would 
have  liked  a  few  more  years  of  his  friend's  undivided  love, 
but  it  was  not  to  be,  Austin  was  in  love,  fianci.     Mrs. 

13 


Austin  Elliot 

Austin's  brother  must  be  taken  up,  whatever  might  be  his 
faults. 

It  is  no  use  trying  to  laugh  at  all  this,  by  saying  that 
Lord  Charles  Barty  and  Austin  were  neither  of  them  fif- 
teen. They  were  quite  as  much  in  earnest,  if  not  more 
so,  than  if  they  had  been  five-and-twenty.  Lord  Charles 
took  up  Robert  Hilton  and  patronized  him  and  was  affec- 
tionate to  him  and  fought  his  battles  for  him  to  the 
death,  but  all  in  a  high  and  mighty  manner,  and  under 
protest. 

But  the  catastrophe  came.  One  day,  while  Austin  and 
Charles  Barty  were  out  at  cricket,  or  what  not,  a  boy,  at 
home  in  disgrace,  came  into  Lord  Charles'  room  and  found 
Robert  Hilton  at  his  desk.  He  seized  him  and  raised  an 
alarm.  The  master  was  fetched,  and  the  wretched  boy's 
boxes  were  searched.  Everything  which  had  been  missed 
in  the  house  for  a  long  time  was  found  there.  The  habit 
which  the  governess  and  Eleanor  had  noticed  in  him,  and 
which  they  dared  not  mention  to  his  father,  was  confirmed 
with  a  vengeance.  The  lad  was  a  thief !  When  Austin 
and  Lord  Charles  came  innocently  home,  laughing,  they 
found  the  whole  mine  sprung  under  their  feet.  Either  one 
of  them  would  have  given  their  right  hands  to  save  the  lad, 
whom  neither  liked ,  but  it  was  too  late. 

He  was  so  very,  very  young,  they  pleaded  for  him. 
Austin  and  Lord  Charles  went  personally  round  to  the 
other  boys  whose  things  had  been  stolen  and  begged  their 
forbearance.  He  was  so  very,  very  young.  I  need  not  say 
what  English  boys  did  under  those  circumstances.  There 
was  no  scandal :  he  was  sent  home. 

So  it  came  about,  that  George  Hilton's  inordinate,  and 
somewhat  unprincipled  love  of  gain  began  to  be  revenged 
on  him  in  the  person  of  his  only  son.  He  knew  it  and  felt 
it  as  keenly  as  any  one,  but  he  hardened  his  heart.  He 
refused  to  see  the  boy  for  some  time,  and  he  saw  him  but 
very  seldom  until  he  died. 

It  becomes  necessary  that  we  should  follow  Robert  Hil- 

14 


Austin  Elliot 

ton  to  the  end,  before  we  return  to  Austin  and  Eleanor, 
and  it  is  very  shortly  done. 

This  case  was  the  one  on  which  the  Rev.  Letmedown 
Easy  gained  his  present  enormous  and  justly-earned  repu- 
tation for  keeping  young  bears  from  growling,  by  feeding 
them  with  the  toast  from  under  the  asparagus,  with  the 
ends  of  the  twists,  the  eggs  out  of  the  pigeon-pies,  and 
other  soothing  dainties,  until  the  whole  thing  was  blown 
over  and  everybody  had  forgotten  all  about  it.  He  well 
earned  the  thousand  pounds  which  George  Hilton  paid  him 
for  keeping  his  son  five  years  without  scandal,  and  for 
sending  his  father  a  good  character  of  him  each  half-year. 
The  Rev.  Letmedown  was  not  such  a  very  great  rogue ; 
he  undertook  to  whitewash  the  boy,  and  he  whitewashed 
him.  He  kept  him  at  his  parsonage  in  Essex  safe  out  of 
temptation  for  five  years,  until  the  whole  thing  was  for- 
gotten.    He  was  paid  for  doing  it  and  he  did  it. 

Our  already  old  friend  James  Elliot  begged  his  son  not 
to  renew  his  acquaintance  with  Robert  Hilton,  and  Austin 
acquiesced.  Old  Hilton  never  allowed  his  son  to  come 
into  the  house,  and  so  Austin  never  saw  Robert  after  his 
unfortunate  departure  from  Eton.  It  was  no  fault,  how- 
ever, of  Austin's  ;  if  Robert  had  ever  been  allowed  to  come 
home  by  his  stern  old  father,  they  would  have  seen  enough 
of  one  another.  For  Austin's  love  for  Eleanor  grew 
stronger  year  by  year,  and  he  was  always  with  her. 

More  of  this  immediately.  Just  before  Austin  went  to 
Oxford,  Eleanor  wrote  to  him  that  Robert  and  her  father 
were  reconciled  at  last,  and  that  Robert  had  got  his  com- 
mission. At  this  point  Mr.  Easy's  fictitious  respectability 
suddenly  and  lamentably  broke  down.  Before  Robert  had 
been  three  months  in  the  army,  people  began  to  talk. 
Gossip  was  followed  by  open  accusations,  accusations  by 
court-martial.  The  end  was  swift,  sudden  and  sure  : 
Robert  Hilton  was  disgracefully  expelled  from  the  army. 


15 


Austin  Elliot 


Chapter  IV 

The  private  residence  of  the  Inspector-General  of  Shoals 
and  Quicksands  was  at  Mortlake,  his  official  yacht  gener- 
ally lay  at  Gravesend,  and  his  office  was  on  the  terrace  of 
Somerset  House. 

The  duties  of  the  Inspector  of  Shoals  and  Quicksands 
are,  to  inspect  them,  and  to  report  on  the  state  of  them  to 
my  Lords.  This  is  done  firstly  by  examination  of  local 
witnesses,  and  secondly  by  personal  experience.  The 
former  of  these  two  methods  is,  of  course,  in  some  meas- 
ure performed  at  the  office,  and  the  second  mainly  by 
means  of  the  yacht. 

The  office  is  one  of  the  freshest  and  breeziest  in  Lon- 
don. On  a  summer's  day  it  is  a  very  cheerful  spot ;  the 
steamers  dashing  ceaselessly  up  and  down,  and  the  river 
running  in  a  great  gleaming  band  eastward  towards  St. 
Paul's.  When  the  wind  is  blowing  strongly  from  the 
east  or  south-east,  bringing  with  it,  in  spite  of  miles  of 
brickwork  and  smoke,  a  fresh  whiff  of  the  wild  glorious 
sea,  and  lashing  the  river  into  waves,  it  is  a  pleasanter  and 
fresher  place  still.  But  the  best  time  to  be  about  that 
office  is  in  a  gale  of  wind  from  the  southward,  or  south- 
westward  ;  when  the  glass  rattles  in  the  windows  and  the 
driving  rain  comes  spinning  into  the  lobby,  when  the  door 
is  opened ;  and  when  the  most  prosaic  clerk,  wearily 
copying  the  "  statement  of  William  Grumble,  master  of 
the  light-ship  on  the  St.  Margaret  Sands,  concerning  the 
shifting  of  the  N.  E.  Channel,"  cannot  help  staying  for  an 
instant  to  wonder  how  it  fares  with  William  Grumble  in 
his  light-ship  just  now  ;  when  the  chimney-pots  are  flying, 
the  water  barometer  varying  four  or  five  inches  every  quar- 
ter of  an  hour,  and  the  gulls  up  the  river  in  dozens. 

Ever  since  he  was  a  boy,  and  a  very  small  one,  Austin 
had  been  very  fond  of  the  office :  it  had  always  been  a 
i6 


(    Austin  Elliot 

great  treat  to  him  to  be  allowed  to  come  to  the  office,  and 
plag^ue  his  father,  at  his  great  square  leather-covered  table. 
When  his  father  wouldn't  stand  him  any  longer  he  used 
to  go  out  and  '*  skylark  "  with  the  clerks,  who,  you  may 
depend,  did  not  object  to  that  sort  of  thing.  But  present- 
ly, he  being  a  very  noisy  boy,  his  father  would  come  in, 
and  turn  him  out  of  the  clerks'  rooms  into  the  lobby,  to 
disport  himself  there. 

And  an  uncommonly  merry,  gentlemanly  set  of  fellows 
were  those  aforesaid  clerks  as  one  could  wish  to  meet 
with.  No  chief  of  any  Department  had  his  clerks  better 
in  hand  than  James  Elliot,  and  no  one  scolded  less  —  but 
we  will  say  no  more  of  this.  Though  the  clerks  were 
merry  young  gentlemen,  yet  when  turned  out  of  their 
rooms,  Austin  found  in  the  lobby  men  he  liked  still  t)etter 
than  the  clerks. 

Men  with  calm  clear  eyes,  and  deliberate  thoughtful 
speech.  Most  of  them  men  with  brown  horny  hands  and 
grizzled  hair.  A  few  of  them  dressed  in  rough  pilot  coats  ; 
more,  in  old-fashioned  long-tailed  coats,  with  brass  but- 
tons ;  more  of  them  still,  soberly  dressed  in  unobtrusive 
black,  but  all  with  the  same  calm  clear  eye.  These  were 
the  lighthouse-keepers,  or  such  as  they  —  men  of  the 
storm,  of  the  lee  shore,  of  the  reef,  of  the  quicksand  — 
men  from  the  lonely  station  standing  far  seaward  on  the 
thunder-smitten  cliff,  or  from  the  solitary  lighthouse,  on 
the  surf- washed  ledge,  miles  out  in  the  raging  sea. 

It  was  well  for  this  golden-haired  lad,  with  his  beautiful 
face,  to  stand  at  the  knees  of  such  men  as  these,  and  lis- 
ten to  them ;  to  hear  from  one,  how  on  a  night,  when  sea 
and  air  were  all  mixed  together  in  deadly  turmoil,  the 
light-ship  he  commanded  broke  loose  without  their  know- 
ing it,  and  was  carried  over  dangerous  sands,  and  thrown 
high  and  dry  and  safe  on  the  beach ;  and  from  another 
one,  how  he  and  his  mate  sat  up  one  such  night  in  the 
lonely  lighthouse,  five  miles  from  land,  watching  the 
corpse  of  the  third  and  oldest  of  them,  who  had  died  that 
17 


Austin  Elliot 

morning  —  and  how,  while  they  sat  there,  they  heard,  but 
could  not  see,  an  unmanageable  and  dismasted  ship  strike 
the  rock  and  go  to  pieces,  a  hundred  feet  below  them  ; 
and  that,  creeping  down  and  opening  the  lower  door,  and 
looking  out  into  the  black  horror  of  darkness,  they  could 
hear  in  the  night,  close  to  them,  the  crashing  and  cracking 
of  timbers,  and  the  sound  of  men,  women,  and  children 
calling  on  God  Almighty  for  help !  There  was  nothing 
there  in  the  morning,  said  this  one,  in  answer  to  an  un- 
expressed inquiry  from  Austin's  blue  eyes.  She  had 
struck  at  low  tide. 

Yes  ;  the  office  was  a  pleasant  place  enough,  but  there 
was  something  better  than  the  office  —  the  yacht.  Once  a 
year,  in  the  beginning  of  recess,  there  would  come  a  long 
blue  letter  from  my  Lords  of  the  Admiralty  (not  our 
Lords),  the  gist  of  which  was  that  the  Inspector  of  Shoals 
and  Quicksands  was  to  hold  himself  in  readiness  to  ac- 
company their  Lordships  in  their  annual  inspection  of 
buoys.  Austin,  of  course,  went  with  his  father  on  these 
occasions,  and  enjoyed  it  mightily;  for,  as  he  says  in 
his  reckless  disi-espectful  way,  my  Lords  are  a  deuced 
jolly  set  of  fellows.  When  they  were  accompanying  the 
Admiralty  yacht  they  used  to  see  a  great  deal  of  very 
pleasant  society,  and  Austin  had  quickly  won  the  hearts, 
not  only  of  the  Quicksand  Lords  (who  held  him  being 
their  own  property),  but  also  the  hearts  of  all  the  Admi- 
ralty Lords,  excepting  one  dreadful  old  sea  Lord,  with  a 
cork  leg  and  a  grievance  about  his  wife's  nephew,  whom 
nobody  could  manage. 

Golden,  glorious  days  were  these.  Sometimes  the  two 
yachts  would  come  steaming  swiftly  and  suddenly  into 
the  harbour  of  some  great  arsenal,  by  the  ugly  hulks,  and 
under  the  rolling  downs,  flattened  on  the  summit  by  dis- 
mantled fortifications,  and  so  through  her  Majesty's  fleet. 
But  however  swiftly  and  suddenly  they  came,  they  could 
never  take  them  by  surprise.  Always,  as  the  Admiralty 
yacht  passed  the  first  ship,  the  great  guns  began  booming 
i8 


Austin  Elliot 

out  their  salute,  and  ship  after  ship  took  up  with  the  glo- 
rious music,  until  the  vessels  of  the  ear  began  to  throb 
with  the  concussion  of  the  air,  and  in  calm  weather  the 
harbour  would  be  filled  with  drifting  smoke  ;  for  the  time 
when  these  things  happened  was  long  ago,  before  gun- 
powder was  so  much  needed  for  other  purposes  as  now, 
and  before  we  saved  ;£30,ooo  a -year  by  stopping  unneces- 
sary salutes. 

And  once  it  came  about  that  there  was  a  discussion,  as 
to  whether  or  no  a  red  buoy  should  be  put  at  the  outer 
edge  of  the  Swing,  to  mark  the  entrance  to  the  Mary  Anne 
Channel.  Mr.  Elliot  went  to  the  chief  Admiralty  Lord, 
and  represented  that  he  thought  it  necessary.  As  a  gen- 
eral rule,  Mr.  Elliot's  suggestions  were  promptly  attended 
to  ;  but  on  occasion,  My  Lords  hum'd  and  hah'd  a  great 
deal.  One  said  that  there  had  been  a  good  deal  said 
about  Naval  expenditure  lately,  and  that  if  it  were  neces- 
sary to  have  a  buoy  at  all  (which,  mind  you,  he  did  not 
for  one  instant  admit),  he  was  for  having  a  blue  buoy  in- 
stead of  a  red,  because  every  one,  who  knew  the  least 
about  their  duty,  were  well  aware  that  blue  paint  could  be 
got  a  farthing  a  pound  cheaper  than  red.  Another  denied 
this  in  toto,  and  said  that  red  paint  was  cheapest.  A 
third  denied  the  existence  of  the  Mary  Anne  Channel  al- 
together. A  fourth  contradicted  him  flatly ;  but  said  that 
if  the  wreck  of  the  Mary  Anne  was  moved,  the  sand 
would  silt  in  again,  and  then  what  was  the  use  of  your 
buoy  }  Mr.  Elliot,  like  a  man  of  the  world,  contradicted 
their  Lordships,  individually  and  collectively,  and  insisted 
on  a  buoy,  and  a  red  one,  too ;  the  red  paint  was  just  as 
cheap  as  the  blue.  As  Mr.  Elliot  had  foreseen,  their 
Lordships  had  a  squabble  among  themselves,  which  ended 
in  their  turning  on  him,  and  ordering  him  to  proceed  at 
once  on  board  his  yacht,  the  Pelican,  and  proceed  to  Ports- 
mouth to  await  their  Lordships*  orders.  At  the  same 
time,  a  curt,  short  message  was  sent  quickly  down  by  the 
telegraph  —  which  at  that  time  was  a  thing  like  a  wind- 

19 


Austin  Elliot 

mill  gone  mad  —  to  the  commander  of  the  Admiralty 
yacht  Falcon,  to  hold  himself  in  readiness  to  proceed  to 
sea  with  their  Lordships  at  once  ;  and  then  their  Lordships 
departed  to  Belgrave  and  Grosvenor  Squares,  and  where 
not,  to  pack  up  their  things,  and  told  their  ladyships  that 
it  was  getting  intolerable,  that  they  could  not  and  would 
not  stand  being  dictated  to  by  a  subordinate  any  longer, 
and  that  they  were  going  to  see  into  the  matter  for  them- 
selves. 

The  cause  of  all  this  dire  anger,  and  all  this  Spartan 
self-denial,  was  as  follows  :  —  The  Commons  were  ad- 
journed, leaving  Daniel  O'Connell  to  the  mercy  of  the 
Lords,  but  Parliament  was  not  prorogued.  The  August 
sun  was  shedding  a  mellow  sleepy  light  over  cape  and 
island,  a  gentle  west  wind  was  blowing  up  channel,  scarce 
strong  enough  to  whiten  the  purple  waves.  And  well !  If 
their  lordships  in  such  case,  having  the  power  to  go  to  sea, 
had  stayed  on  shore,  they  would  have  deserved  impeach- 
ment, or  a  contempt  worse  than  impeachment.  However 
this  may  be,  however  angry  their  lordships  may  have 
been  with  Mr.  Elliot,  there  was  no  cloud,  not  the  faintest 
speck  of  one,  on  any  of  their  faces,  when  he  boarded  the 
Falcon  at  Spithead  and  reported  himself.  Three  days 
afterwards,  Austin,  expressing  himself  in  that  low,  slangy 
way  which  the  young  men  of  the  present  day  seem  so 
anxious  to  adopt,  said  that  my  lords  were  "  uncommonly 
larky."  This,  however,  is  certain,  that  Austin  and  his 
father  dined  on  board  with  their  lordships  ;  and  before  the 
soup  was  off  the  table  the  great  paddles  got  to  work,  and 
the  Falcon,  with  the  Pelican  close  in  her  wake,  went  thun- 
dering down  the  Solent,  and  so  out  into  the  leaping  sum- 
mer waves  of  the  channel ;  and  that  as  the  summer  sun 
went  down,  Portland  was  hanging  to  the  north  —  a  vast 
purple  wall  overrun  by  threads  and  bands  of  green  ;  and 
that  Austin  and  his  father  were  put  on  board  their  own 
yacht  at  eight  bells,  speed  being  slackened  for  the  pur- 
pose.   And  when  they  got  on  board,  Austin  remarked  to 


Austin  Elliot 

his  father  that  they  seemed  to  be  in  for  rather  a  jolly 
spree. 

Then  followed  the  short  summer  night,  and  soon  after 
dawn  Austin  was  on  deck  looking  at  the  Start  towering 
up  to  the  north,  blue,  purple,  with  gleams  of  golden  green. 
And  while  Austin  is  looking  at  the  Start,  let  us  look  at 
him  once  for  all,  because  his  personal  appearance  will  not 
greatly  change  before  this  story  gets  wellnigh  told. 

A  very  short  description  will  suffice.  We  only  wish  to 
give  you  such  an  idea  of  his  personality  as  to  make  him 
real  to  you.  From  a  beautiful  boy,  he  had  grown  to  be  a 
very  handsome  young  man  —  as  soine  said,  one  of  the 
handsomest  ever  seen.  He  was  light-haired,  with  a  rather 
delicate  brilliant  complexion,  and  blue  eyes.  His  figure 
was  very  good,  his  air  graceful,  his  manner  winning  and 
gentle,  his  dress  always  perfect,  his  conversation  easy, 
clever,  and  inexhaustible,  all  of  which  things  caused  every 
woman,  high  or  low,  whom  he  met  to  get  uncommonly 
fond  of  him.  But  besides,  he  not  only  had  the  women  on 
his  side,  which  many  a  handsome  young  dandy  has  had 
before,  but  also  the  men. 

The  reason  that  he  had  the  men  on  his  side  was,  that  he 
was  a  good  fellow,  and  that  means  a  good  deal ;  so  much 
so,  that  it  is  impossible  to  describe,  with  any  exhaustive 
accuracy,  what  it  means.  Although  we  all  of  us  know  a 
good  fellow,  it  is  hard  to  be  made  to  define  one.  Austin 
was  one,  certainly.  He  laughed  with  those  who  were 
merry,  he  condoled  with  those  who  were  sad,  nursed  those 
who  were  sick,  lent  money  to  those  who  were  poor,  was  a 
good  companion  to  those  who  were  rich,  and  carried  com- 
fort to  those  who  were  in  love.  Many  others  do  all  these 
things,  and  yet  are  not  good  fellows.  Austin  was  a  good 
fellow,  for  he  was  in  earnest,  and  any  one  who  took  the 
trouble  might  see  it.  He  was  now  at  Oxford,  and  although 
his  diligence  might  have  been  greater,  yet  his  tutors  had 
great  hopes  of  a  very  high  degree  for  him.  Rarely  does 
one  find  a  young  man  of  prospects  more  brilliant  than  those 


Austin  Elliot 

of  Austin,  as  he  stands  this  morning  on  the  deck  of  the 
yacht,  looking  northward  at  the  Start. 

So  the  two  yachts  went  tearing  down  channel,  as  though 
their  errand  were  to  arrive  at  the  Swing  before  the  channel 
was  silted  up,  and  before  the  second  sunset  they  were  pass- 
ing St.  Michael's  Mount ;  the  third  they  were  gazing  in 
amazement  at  the  Worm's  Head,  rising  like  a  serpent  out 
of  the  sea ;  the  next  they  were  at  the  Swing. 

Here  there  was  an  accident.*  Austin  was  on  board  of 
the  Falcon,  and,  as  they  approached  the  shoal,  their  lord- 
ships all  began  wrangling  once  more  on  the  buoy  question, 
which  had  been  shelved  just  now,  in  the  pleasure  of  the 
voyage.  There  was  no  need  for  them  to  have  troubled 
themselves  about  it,  Mr.  Elliot  would  have  explained,  but 
no,  they  were  not  coming  five  hundred  miles  for  nothing, 
and  so  they  began  to  wrangle. 

The  commander  asked,  should  he  steer  by  the  Admiralty 
chart,  or  by  Mr.  Elliot's  directions  ?  Mr.  Elliot  must  be 
made  to  know  that  their  lordships  were  not  going  to  be 
hoodwinked  by  a  subordinate.  By  the  Admiralty  chart,  if 
you  please. 

Thump,  bump !  up  goes  her  nose  two  feet  in  the  air, 
and  down  she  goes  on  the  port  side.  The  senior  lord 
goes  into  the  lee  scuppers,  and  Austin  indecently  bursts 
out  laughing.  The  Falcon  was  aground  hard  and  fast. 
This  is  Austin's  account  of  the  matter.  It  seems  some- 
what apocryphal. 

She  was  off  again  at  high  tide,  with  the  loss  of  some 
copper.  But  the  effect  of  the  accident  was,  that  they 
rounded  the  Lleyn  and  made  for  Liverpool. 

It  was  a  very  important  voyage  this  for  Austin,  and  the 
conclusion  of  it  more  important  still.     Austin  had  been  by 

*  If  Austin  is  correct  about  this  accident,  there  must  have  been 
two  accidents  to  the  Admiralty  yacht,  very  similar;  for  it  is  a 
matter  of  history  that  My  Lords  bumped  themselves  ashore  in  the 
Bristol  Channel  in  1846.  They  should  be  more  careful.  What 
should  we  do  if  anything  were  to  happen  to  them  ? 
22 


Austin  Elliot 

this  voyage  thrown  into  such  close  and  intimate  familiarity 
with  some  one  or  two  leading  men,  as  commonly  happens 
on  board  ship ;  where  intimacies  are  so  rapidly  made,  as 
to  astonish  those  who  are  not  in  the  habit  of  going  to  sea. 
Austin  had  used  his  time  well.  He  was  as  irresistible  as 
usual.  He  had  never  been  presented  to  their  own  senior 
Lord  before  he  went  on  board,  and  considered  such  an 
event  rather  a  great  one  for  a  lad  at  the  University,  with- 
out any  pretensions  to  birth.  But  after  four  days  at  sea, 
he  had  laughed  when  he  picked  that  Lord  out  of  the  lee 
scuppers,  and  that  Lord  had  somewhat  eagerly  appealed 
to  his  opinion,  against  another  Lord,  as  to  whether  or  no 
he  had  prophesied  the  accident.  Which  was  getting  on 
very  well  indeed. 

But  better  than  this  happened  to  him.  They  turned  into 
the  Strait,  and  dropped  anchor  at  Caernarvon,  the  Senior 
Lord  of  the  Quicksands  was  going  to  disembark  there,  and 
post  to  his  estate  in  Merionethshire.  Austin's  ears  actu- 
ally tingled  with  delight  when  the  senior  lord  asked  him  to 
come  with  him,  and  spend  a  fortnight  with  him  and  his 
family  among  the  mountains. 

Austin  was  ambitious,  and  he  knew  that  one  of  the  roads 
to  political  greatness  was  the  being  well  thought  of  in  cer- 
tain quarters.  But  he  was  no  tuft  hunter,  and  he  knew 
besides  that  the  only  way  to  gain  a  footing  in  a  house  was, 
to  come  in  at  the  front  door  and  not  at  the  back.  From 
his  first  acquaintance  with  Lord  Charles  Barty  at  Eton,  he 
had  had  the  full  run  of  Cheshire  House,  but,  since  he  had 
been  at  the  University,  his  sense  had  told  him  that  he  had 
better  not  go  there  till  he  was  asked.  In  spite  of  Lord 
Charles  Barty 's  friendship  for  him,  which  developed  as 
they  both  grew  older,  Austin  had,  for  the  last  three  years, 
managed  to  avoid  entering  the  house,  until  the  time  should 
come  when  he  might  be  asked  to  do  so  by  much  more 
important  people  than  his  old  school-mate. 

But  here  was  a  real  triumph.  The  Senior  Lord  was  a 
very  great  man  indeed.    There  were  very  few  greater. 

23 


Austin  Elliot 

Austin  had  only  been  presented  to  him  four  days  before, 
and  had  laughed  at  him  but  yesterday,  when  he  picked 
him  up  out  of  the  lee-scuppers,  and  yet  here  was  his  Lord- 
ship insisting  on  his  coming  home  with  him.  It  was  a 
very  great  stroke  of  business  to  a  young  man  so  anxious 
to  push  himself  in  the  world  as  Austin. 

Even  at  Caernarvon  Austin's  wonder  was  excited,  not 
merely  at  the  reverence  which  was  paid  to  his  Lordship, 
but  also  at  the,  if  possible,  greater  reverence  paid  to  him- 
self. He  was  very  much  amused  by,  and  puzzled  at  it. 
The  Landlord  at  Caernarvon  bowed  to  him,  and  called 
him,  "  My  Lord."  "  Simple  people  these  Welsh,"  thought 
Austin. 

But  he  did  not  think  so  very  much  of  it,  for  this  day 
was  an  era  in  his  life.  For  the  first  time  he  saw  mountain 
scenery  —  and  I  think  that  the  reader  will  agree  with  the 
author  that,  of  all  the  introductions  to  mountain  scenery, 
that  of  the  road  from  Caernarvon  to  Llanberis  is  one  of 
the  most  sudden,  most  startling,  and  most  beautiful. 

My  Lord,  whom  we  will  now  call  Mr.  Cecil,  sat  oppo- 
site to  him,  and  was  very  much  pleased  with  his  boyish 
enthusiasm  ;  and,  indeed,  the  enthusiasm  of  a  young  per- 
son, when  they  first  find  their  visible  horizon  tilted  up  some 
ninety-five  degrees,  is  very  pleasing.  Mr.  Cecil  sat  and 
smiled  at  him,  with  an  air  of  calm  pride  on  his  face,  as  if 
he  had  made  it  all  himself,  and  was  pleased  to  find  that 
his  trouble  was  appreciated.  But  as  we  all  do  this,  when 
we  introduce  a  friend  to  some  new  scenery,  we  must  not 
be  hard  on  Mr.  Cecil. 

In  the  very  middle  of  the  finest  part  of  the  Pass,  there 
came  riding  towards  them  a  very  tall,  important-looking 
gentleman,  with  very  black  whiskers.  He  stopped  and 
saluted  Mr.  Cecil,  and  looked  with  such  lively  interest  at 
Austin,  that  the  poor  young  gentleman  felt  inclined  to 
laugh.  The  gentleman  with  the  black  whiskers  asked, 
with  a  sweet  smile,  to  be  introduced.  When  Austin  was 
introduced  as  Mr.  Elliot,  the  gentleman  looked  very  much 
24 


Austin  Elliot 

disappointed  and  aggrieved,  and  was  many  degrees  shorter 
in  his  speech  towards  Austin  than  the  latter  had  supposed, 
from  previous  symptoms,  he  would  have  been. 

It  was  a  memorable  and  delightful  day.  A  lucky  rogue 
was  Austin,  to  be  shut  up  tete-d-tete  in  an  open  carriage 
with  one  of  the  most  agreeable  and  famous  men  in  Eng- 
land, and  driven  through  a  continual  succession  of  such 
beautiful  scenery.  Mr.  Cecil,  on  his  part,  was  delighted 
with  Austin's  charming  manners  and  ingenuousness.  He 
listened  kindly  and  with  interest  to  his  confidences,  to  his 
anticipations  of  a  career  in  the  world ;  and  made  Austin 
blush  with  delight,  by  saying,  that  from  all  he  had  seen  of 
him,  there  was  nothing  whatever  to  prevent  the  realization 
of  a  very  great  portion  of  his  hopes. 

But  the  most  beautiful  among  all  the  beautiful  objects 
seen  that  day  was  the  one  seen  last.  More  beautiful  than 
a  million  silver  threads  of  water,  streaming  from  ten  thou- 
sand crystalline  peaks.  More  beautiful  than  all  the  soar- 
ing ranges  of  feathering  birch,  which  hung  purple  over 
the  winter  snow,  or  shone  golden  over  the  summer  fern, 
in  all  glorious  Caernarvonshire. 

And  it  was  this.  As  the  summer  sun  was  still  blazing 
on  the  topmost  crag  of  Snowdon,  and  as  each  of  the  four- 
teen little  lakes  of  that  most  exquisite  of  mountains  was 
sending  up  its  tribute  of  mist  to  wreathe  all  night  around 
the  brows  of  the  sleeping  cliffs  —  at  such  time  Mr.  Cecil 
and  Austin  came  to  a  wall,  inside  of  what  was  a  dark 
band  of  plantation,  and  Mr.  Cecil  stopped  the  carriage, 
and  said,  —  "  This  is  the  beginning  of  my  park.  Let  us 
get  out  and  walk  ;  we  shall  be  at  the  house  as  soon  as  the 
carriage,  if  we  go  by  the  short  cut." 

So  they  got  out,  and  the  carriage  drove  on.  Mr.  Cecil 
opened  a  gate  in  the  wall,  and  said,  "  Come  on." 

And  Austin,  standing  in  the  road,  and  looking  at  Snow- 
don, answered,  —  "  One  minute  more,  only  one  minute 
more,  with  the  mountain!  Remember,  this  is  the  first 
time  I  have  ever  seen  this  sort  of  thing.    See  !  the  black, 

25 


Austin  Elliot 

purple  shadow  is  creeping  up,  and  gaining  every  instant 
on  the  golden  glory  lingering  around  the  summit.  And 
look,  Mr.  Cecil,  every  wreath  of  mist  from  every  wrinkle 
and  hollow  among  the  great  slate  buttresses,  is  turning 
from  fleecy  white  to  a  pale,  ghostly  blue.  I  beg  pardon,  I 
am  keeping  you  waiting.  People  generally  make  asses  of 
themselves  when  they  are  first  introduced  to  mountain 
scenery." 

"  Generally,  yes,"  said  Mr.  Cecil ;  "  but  you  are  slightly 
poetical  for  a  young  gentleman  who  proposes  to  succeed  in 
politics.  Come  on,  I  have  something  to  show  you  finer 
than  that  mountain  before  you  get  any  dinner." 

He  was  right.  The  path  grew  steep  and  rocky  as  it 
wound  down  through  the  dark  wood,  and  to  the  right 
Austin  began  to  distinguish  a  dim  abyss,  and  to  hear  a 
sound  as  of  a  mighty  wind  coming  through  the  trees  ;  and 
then  suddenly  they  stood  upon  a  slight  bridge,  and  were 
looking  up  at  a  broad  cascade  which  streamed  and  spout- 
ed a  hundred  feet  over  head. 

He  gave  a  cry  of  honest  delight  at  the  glorious  spectacle. 
He  was  standing,  still  absorbed  in  it  a  few  minutes  after- 
wards, when  he  was  touched  on  the  shoulder. 

He  turned,  expecting  to  see  only  his  host,  but  beside  him 
was  standing  the  most  beautiful  girl  he  had  ever  seen, 
with  her  arm  round  her  father's  waist. 

'  *  My  daughter  ! "  But  was  it  really  his  daughter,  or 
was  it  some  beautiful  fairy  of  the  stream,  some  being  born 
of  the  amber-coloured  water,  of  the  white  foam,  and  of  the 
last  rosy  tints  that  hung  on  the  cliffs  over  head  }  Such, 
for  one  instant,  was  his  silly  fancy,  as  he  looked  on  this 
sudden  apparition,  at  her  light-brown  hair,  her  pure  red 
cheek,  and  her  white  gown.  Was  it  fated  that  every  one 
who  met  him  this  day  should  look  disappointed?  Miss 
Cecil,  the  most  amiable  as  well  as  the  most  beautiful  of 
women,  even  she  seemed  to  have  some  slight  shade  of  dis- 
appointment on  her  face.  It  was  inexplicable,  but  very 
annoying. 

26 


Austin  Elliot 

If  her  beauty  showed  to  advantage  amidst  the  seething 
mist  of  the  waterfall,  it  did  not  show  to  less  advantage 
under  the  shadows  of  the  woodland,  as  she,  her  father  and 
Austin  walked  home  together.  Not  to  less  advantage,  at 
all  events,  to  Austin,  but  to  greater.  And  in  his  eyes  her 
beauty  seemed  to  increase  as  he  looked  at  her,  and  grew 
even  more  and  more  divine  at  each  turn  of  the  head  and 
at  each  fresh  expression  of  the  face.  Austin  had  never 
seen  such  beauty  before,  Mr.  Cecil  had.  The  beautiful 
girl's  dead  mother  was  even  more  beautiful  than  she. 

From  the  windows  of  Tyn  y  Rhraiadr  (the  farm  of  the 
waterfall),  you  can  see,  on  a  fine  summer's  night,  Snowdon 
hanging  aloft  like  a  purple  crystal,  and  the  arch  of  twilight 
creeping  along  behind  it  from  west  to  east,  through  the 
short  summer  night,  until  it  begins  to  flash  and  blaze  into 
a  dawn  more  glorious  than  the  scarce-forgotten  sunset. 

And  all  through  that  night,  until  the  arch  of  sunrise  had 
grown  from  dull  orange  to  primrose,  and  even  after,  when 
the  sun  himself  had  looked  over  the  distant  Glyder,  and 
the  long  shadows  of  tree  and  rock  were  cast  along  the 
dewy  sward,  and  the  mowers  began  brushing  through  the 
grass,  and  the  murmurs  of  many  waters,  which  had  waxed 
and  waned  dully  on  the  ear  through  the  night,  had  died 
before  the  jubilant  matins  of  a  thousand  birds ;  until  such 
time  did  Austin  sit  at  the  open  windows  of  his  bedroom, 
and  look  out  on  the  glorious  prospect  and  all  the  wonder- 
ful changes  of  colour  which  take  place  between  dawn  and 
sunrise,  but  as  one  who  saw  them  not. 

For  the  arrow  had  gone  home  this  time  up  to  the  very 
feather. 


Chapter   V 

Austin  sat  and  thought  what  he  could  recollect  to  have 
heard  about  her.     He  had  not  been  much  into  society 
where  he  would  have  been  likely  to  have  heard  much 
27 


Austin  Elliot 

about  her.  Many  of  the  clerks  in  his  father's  office  would 
be  likely  to  know  more. 

He  remembered  one  thing,  however.  He  had  heard, 
that  she  was  an  only  daughter  and  an  immense  heiress, 
and  that  all  the  estates  in  four  counties  would  go  to  this 
young  beauty.     And  he  was  desperately  in  love  with  her. 

He  saw  nothing  absurd  in  this  ;  he  did  not  get  up  in  the 
dead  of  night  and  stealthily  fly  the  house,  without  looking 
back  for  terror.  No  !  he  waited  impatiently  for  day  that 
he  might  see  her  again,  and  get  more  madly,  hopelessly 
entangled  with  her  than  ever. 

If  she  had  shown  a  trifling  disappointment  when  he 
came  the  night  before,  she  seemed  to  be  very  much  pleased 
with  him  next  day.  She  met  him  with  ease,  and  almost 
with  familiarity  —  with  so  much  familiarity,  indeed,  that 
he,  not  knowing  the  cause  of  it,  was  very  much  delighted 
indeed. 

She  had  gone  into  her  father's  dressing-room  that  morn- 
ing, and  said  — 

"  Father  dear,  who  is  this  Mr.  Elliot  whom  you  have 
brought  home  ?  " 

"  He  is  a  young  Oxford  man.  He  promises  uncommon 
well.  They  say  his  degree  will  be  very  good  indeed,  and 
he  is  very  ambitious.  He  may  end  by  being  a  man  of 
some  mark.     Who  knows." 

"  Is  he  nice  ?  " 

"  Can't  say,  I  am  sure.  That  is  your  business.  He  is 
to  marry  that  old  scoundrel  Hilton's  daughter,  and  go 
into  Parliament  with  her  money,  I  believe.  I  have  brought 
him  down  here  for  a  few  days  to  make  his  acquaintance, 
and  introduce  him  to  Mewstone.  He  will  be  useful  to 
him.  He  must  pack  off  soon,  for  he  takes  his  degree  in 
the  October  term." 

"  When  is  Mewstone  coming  }  "  said  she,  with  a  sigh. 

*'  When  he  chooses,"  said  Mr.  Cecil  laughing,  "  you  will 
find  fkaf  out," 

Miss  Cecil  laughed  —  the  most  charming  merry  laugh 
28 


Austin  Elliot 

you  ever  heard  —  and  then  sailed  away  downstairs,  to 
entertain  that  poor  fool,  Austin  Elliot. 

Before  she  had  been  five  minutes  in  the  room  with  him, 
he  saw  that  his  first  estimate  of  her  extraordinary  beauty 
was  by  no  means  too  great.  Not  only  was  her  face  as 
nearly  perfect  as  possible  ;  not  only  were  her  brilliant,  yet 
quiet,  hazel  eyes,  the  most  beautiful  eyes  he  had  ever 
seen;  not  only  was  her  golden  brown  hair,  looped  so 
carelessly  and  so  gracefully  around  the  perfect  shaped 
head,  beyond  comparison  in  the  world,  as  he  thought  — 
all  these  things  he  had  seen  approached  —  but  her  grace 
of  manner  —  a  grace  he  had  read  of  as  being  achieved 
by  some  great  actresses  —  was  something  which  he  had 
never  seen  approached  —  a  grace  seen  only  in  repose,  and 
her  repose  was  continual.  She  moved,  of  course ;  but 
there  was  no  point  of  time  about  any  of  her  movements  : 
you  could  not  say  that  at  such  a  time  she  did  so-and-so. 
She  only  slid  from  one  posture  of  infinite  grace  into 
another.  Austin  thought  that  there  was  as  much  differ- 
ence between  her  motions  and  those  of  another  woman, 
as  between  those  of  a  doe  in  the  wild  woodlands,  and 
those  of  a  soldier  doing  his  exercise. 

"  I  am  so  glad  my  father  brought  you  home  with  him," 
she  said.  "  I  was  rather  dull  here,  all  alone  with  the 
waterfall  and  the  dogs.  Will  you  please  tell  me  about 
the  yacht  running  ashore.  Please  make  me  laugh  about 
it.  I  am  sure  you  can  if  you  choose.  I  can  always  like 
people  who  can  make  me  laugh." 

Austin  certainly  could  do  that.  He  described  their 
Lordships'  squabble  —  the  heartless  obstinacy  of  the  com- 
mander, his  sardonic  grin  when  he  had  made  their  Lord- 
ships run  the  yacht  ashore,  and  the  extraordinary  infu- 
riated heap  of  administrative  talent  of  the  highest  order, 
which  lay  kicking  on  the  deck,  at  the  first  bump  on  the 
sand.  He  would  have  given  five  pounds,  he  said,  to  have 
been  on  board  his  father's  yacht  at  the  time,  and  seen  his 
father's  face.  The  expression  of  fun,  he  said,  tempered 
29 


Austin  Elliot 

with  propriety,  which  would  have  been  seen  in  that  face, 
would  have  been  better  worth  seeing  than  the  whole  of  their 
seven  Lordships,  fighting  together  in  the  lee-scuppers. 

She  laughed  very  heartily,  and  she  said,  "  I  think  I  shall 
like  you  very  much  indeed.  Will  you  come  and  walk 
with  me  this  morning;  my  father  will  be  busy  on  the 
farm  ?  My  father  tells  me  you  are  going  into  politics. 
Will  you  tell  me,  for  I  have  not  seen  a  newspaper,  what 
are  people  saying  about  this  O'Connell  business  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Austin,  "  they  are  saying  all  kinds  of  things. 
Mr.  Cecil  hopes  that  the  Lords  will  reverse  the  judgment 
of  the  lower  courts.  I  entirely  disagree  with  your  father. 
There  is  something  very  charming  in  that.  I,  Austin  Elliot, 
distinctly  tell  you,  Miss  Cecil,  that  I  disagree  with  a  privy 
counsellor  and  first  Lord  of  Shoals  and  Quicksands.  It 
makes  one  feel  taller  to  say  it.  I  have  a  good  mind  to 
tell  him  so  himself." 

"  Better  not,"  she  said,  laughing ;  "  such  presumption 
might  ruin  your  prospects.  And  now  let  us  leave  politics 
and  come  and  see  the  dogs." 

There  was,  in  and  about  the  kennel,  almost  every  variety 
of  dog  conceivable.  There  were  deep-jowled  dogs,  with 
sunken  eyes  and  wrinkled  foreheads,  at  the  first  distant 
note  of  whose  bell-like  voice,  the  hunted  slave  in  the  Cuban 
jungle  lies  down  and  prays  for  death ;  yet  who  here  is  a 
stupid,  blundering,  affectionate  brute,  who  will  let  you  do 
as  you  like  with  him,  and  casts  himself  on  his  back  at  Miss 
Cecil's  feet.  English  bloodhounds,  too,  stupid,  sleepy, 
good-natured,  slobbering.  St.  Bernards,  too  —  dogs  of  the 
snowstorm  and  the  avalanche,  wise-looking  dogs,  self- 
contained,  appearing  to  know  more  than  they  chose  to  say, 
but  idiots  withal  notwithstanding,  and  very  great  idiots, 
as  are  many  self-contained  and  wise-looking  animals  be- 
side they.  A  great  rough  Newfoundland  dog,  chained  up. 
Marry,  why  ?  Because  he  had  been  the  pet  of  the  house, 
until  one  day  he  had  become  Musi,  Berserk,  or  what  you 
choose  to  call  it,  until  the  devil,  or  the  seven  devils,  which 
30 


Austin  Elliot 

lurk  in  all  Newfoundland  dogs,  gentle  and  docile  as  they 
are,  had  broken  loose,  and  Mr.  Cecil  had  had  to  fight  with 
him  for  his  life  in  his  own  dressing-room.  There  were 
two  French  poodles,  which,  as  Mr.  Sala  says  somewhere, 
so  truly,  "  you  can  teach  to  do  everything  but  love  you." 
There  was  a  British  bull-dog,  white,  with  small  eyes  ;  so 
short-sighted  as  to  be  obliged  to  examine  everything  with 
his  nose  (which  gave  Austin  a  creeping  up  his  back),  and 
with  a  wicked,  lowering,  face  ;  yet  which  bull-dog  turned 
out,  like  most  other  British  bull-dogs,  to  be  a  good-natured, 
kind-hearted  fellow,  and  a  firm  friend,  as  soon  as  he  had 
(by  smelling  the  calves  of  their  legs,  a  nervous  proceeding) 
found  out  his  friends  from  his  enemies. 

And  Austin,  finding  that  the  bull-dog,  instead  of  biting 
his  legs,  wagged  his  tail  at  him,  and  proposed  to  accompany 
him  further,  broke  out  into  raptures. 

"  Miss  Cecil,  I  have  never  seen  such  a  collection  of  dogs 
as  this  !     And  I  am  a  great  fancier  of  dogs." 

"  You  have  not  seen  them  nearly  all  yet,"  she  said. 
"  This  is,  I  believe,  the  best  collection  of  dogs  in  England  ; 
or  rather,  I  should  say,  better  than  any  in  England,  for  we 
are  in  Wales.     You  know  how  they  came  here  }  " 

"  No." 

"  My  poor  brother  chose  to  have  the  best  dogs  in  Eng- 
land ;  it  was  a  passion  with  him  ;  and  since  his  death,  my 
father  has  chosen  to  pursue  his  hobby.  You  know  about 
my  brother's  death  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Austin,  who  knew  nothing  at  all  about 
it,  but  who  did  what  was  possibly  the  best  thing  he  could 
do,  utter  a  fagon  de  parler  (for  it  was  nothing  more),  and 
try  to  turn  the  subject.  At  the  same  time  he  reflected, 
that  it  would  be  well  for  young  men  like  himself,  not  in 
society,  before  they  went  into  a  house,  to  inform  them- 
selves somewhat  about  the  history  of  that  house,  to  pre- 
vent mistakes. 

"  Do  you  really  know  about  my  brother,  Mr.  Elliot  ?  " 
said  Miss  Cecil. 

31 


Austin  Elliot 

"  Well,  no,"  said  Austin,  "  I  do  not,  since  you  ask  me 
twice.  Remember,  I  am  only  an  undergraduate  at  Oxford, 
and  that  I  knew  nothing,  even  of  Mr.  Cecil,  except  that  he 
was  one  of  the  first  men  in  England,  and  had  given  such 
and  such  votes,  until  he  asked  me  here." 

"  I  like  you  very  much,"  said  she ;  "  you  are  so  well-bred, 
and  have  so  little  pretension.  I  only  wanted  to  mention 
my  poor  brother,  whom  I  hardly  remember,  to  warn  you 
what  not  to  talk  about  with  my  father.  He  was  drowned 
boating  at  Eton.  And  you  will  find  that  it  is  as  well  to 
know  all  this  sort  of  thing  in  the  world." 

Miss  Cecil,  the  oracle,  was  much  younger  than  Austin ; 
but  she  had  been  out  two  seasons,  and  knew  a  great  deal 
of  the  world ;  and  he  was  at  the  University  and  knew  ab- 
solutely and  entirely  nothing.  If  he  had,  he  would  have 
known  what  a  consummate  fool  he  was  to  fall  in  love  with 
her,  recklessly  to  go  on  feeding  his  passion  ;  and  above  all, 
what  an  utter  fool  he  was  to  hope  that  it  would  have  any 
other  than  one  conclusion. 

"  I  know  nothing  of  the  world,  or  about  people,  yet," 
he  said,  "  I  suppose  the  knowledge  of  people  and  their  be- 
longings will  come  to  one  in  time.  It  seems  tiresome  to 
get  it  up.  Do  you  know  that  none  of  the  best  fellows  who 
I  know  are  up  in  that  sort  of  thing.  Now,  there  is  Lord 
Charles  Barty,  he  is  coming  on  very  well  indeed ;  but, 
mind  you,  I  believe  if  you  were  to  put  him  into  a  corner 
he  would  not  be  able  to  tell  you  who  his  grandmother's 
father  was." 

Miss  Cecil  laughed.  "  I  daresay  not,"  said  she.  "  / 
know.  His  grandmother  was  a  Leyton,  daughter  of  Sir 
Robert  Leyton,  of  Broadash.  Leave  the  pedigrees  to  the 
women.  One  of  the  great  uses  of  a  woman  in  society  is, 
I  take  it,  to  tell  her  husband  who  people  are." 

So  she  talked  to  him,  as  one  would  talk  to  an  intelligent 
boy  sent  to  one  for  a  holiday ;  and  yet  the  fool  loved  on 
more  madly  than  ever. 

"  Come  on,"  she  said,  "  and  let  us  see  the  rest  of  the 
32 


Austin  Elliot 

dogs  ; "  for  this  conversation  took  place  at  the  fountain  in 
the  centre  of  the  kennels,  and  they  had  only  come  up  one 
avenue,  and  only  seen  one  fourth  of  the  dogs  as  yet. 

And  as  they  turned  to  go  she  said  : 

"  I  like  you  very  much,  as  I  told  you  before.  And  to 
prove  to  you  how  much  I  like  you,  I  will  give  you,  out  of 
all  these  hundreds  of  beautiful  dogs,  the  dog  you  choose 
—  the  dog  you  think  that  you  will  love  best ;  and  I  only 
annex  one  condition  —  that  whenever  your  heart  warms 
towards  that  dog,  that  you  will  think  of  me,  and  think  how 
much  I  like  you.  I  have  heard  a  very  great  deal  of  you. 
I  rather  believe  that  you  did  not  know  of  my  existence  be- 
fore you  came  here.  But  I  have  been  in  love  with  you  for 
a  long  time." 

Miss  Cecil  and  Eleanor  had  been  friends  and  corre- 
spondents ;  Austin  did  not  know  this.  He  was  not  cox- 
comb enough  to  take  her  cool  free-and-easy  expressions  as 
advances  to  himself,  and  yet  he  was  foolish  enough  to 
think  that  they  formed  a  basis  of  operations.  He  had 
hopes. 

He  was  a  great  fool ;  but  I  would  not  have  cared  to 
write  his  history  if  he  had  not  been.  Let  us  be  Jacobin, 
democratic,  and  revolutionary  for  a  season,  until  our  rea- 
son returns.  If  a  man  is  thrown  into  intricate  relations 
with  a  woman,  however  much  his  superior  in  rank,  that 
man  is  justified,  if  he  so  please,  in  falling  in  love  with  that 
woman.  A  man  may  fly  from  a  hopeless  passion,  and  be 
miserable.  Granted.  A  man  may  yield  to  a  hopeless 
passion,  and  may  behave  like  a  gentleman,  and  keep  it  all 
in  his  own  breast,  and  tell  no  one  but  the  friend  of  his 
heart,  and  be  miserable.  Also  granted.  But  if  a  man 
comes  to  me  and  says,  that  although  he  was  with  such 
and  such  a  woman,  but  didn't  allow  himself  to  fall  in  love 
with  her  because  she  was  above  him  in  rank,  I  choose  to 
tell  that  man  that  he  is  no  man  at  all,  and  no  more  knows 
what  love  means  than  a  horse  or  a  dog. 

Now  they  began  looking  at  the  terriers.  There  was  one 
33 


Austin  Elliot 

snow-white  English  terrier  of  such  amazing  beauty,  that 
Austin  very  nearly  chose  it,  but  fortunately  did  not.  Then 
there  were  some  black  and  tans,  equal  in  beauty  to  the 
white.  Dandy  Dinmont  terriers,  as  long  and  as  lithe  as 
otters ;  and  pert,  merry,  sharp  little  Skyes ;  rough  long- 
legged  English  fox  terriers,  which  ran  on  three  legs,  like 
Scotch  terriers,  and  held  their  heads  on  one  side  knowing- 
ly. Austin  was  more  and  more  delighted  every  step.  He 
knew  all  about  every  dog  ;  but  at  the  last  he  was  stopped. 
He  came  across  four  little  dogs,  the  like  of  which  he  had 
pever  seen  before. 

Little  long-bodied,  short-legged  dogs,  a  dull  blue-grey 
colour,  with  clouded  black  spots ;  sharp,  merry  little  fel- 
lows. 

"  What  dogs  can  these  be.  Miss  Cecil  ?  "  he  said.  "  I 
am  quite  at  fault." 

"  Cannot  you  guess  ?  Why,  they  are  turnspits,  and  all 
with  the  turnspit  peculiarity.  The  right  eye  is  not  of  the 
same  colour  as  the  left.  I  suppose  you  will  hardly  see 
such  dogs  as  these  in  England.     Will  you  choose  one  ?  " 

Although  one  of  the  queer  merry  little  rogues  begged  at 
him,  he  said  no.  "  They  are  a  sight,"  he  said,  "  a  sight 
worth  seeing,  but  I  will  not  choose  one.  In  an  artistic 
point  of  view,  they  are  ugly,  and  they  suggest  to  one  the 
blue  dogs  which  the  Chinese  fatten  for  table.  No.  I 
hardly  dare  to  say  so,  but  of  all  the  dogs  here  I  would 
soonest  have  that  incomparable  white  terrier.  I  have 
dreamed  of  such  a  dog  as  that,  but  I  never  saw  such  a 
one." 

"  It  is  hardly  possible  that  you  can  have.  He  is  yours 
with  a  thousand  welcomes.  I  hope  he  may  live  long  to 
remind  you  of  me." 

"  I  need  no  dog  to  do  that,"  said  Austin  ;  "  but  I  can- 
not take  such  a  princely  present." 

She  laughed.  "  It  is  done,"  she  said  ;  "  the  election  is 
made  for  good  or  evil.     Come  and  take  possession." 

The  election,  so  terribly  important  as  it  turned  out,  was 

34 


Austin  Elliot 

nearly  made.    Who  could  guess,  on  that  happy  summer's 
day,  how  much  was  to  depend  on  the  choosing  of  a  dog  ? 

"  For  the  want  of  a  nail  the  shoe  was  lost  ; 
For  the  want  of  a  shoe  the  horse  was  lost ; 
For  the  want  of  a  horse  the  rider  was  lost  ; 
For  the  want  of  a  rider  a  kingdom  was  lost. " 

If  it  were  not  that  we  knew  that  a  tender,  loving  Father 
watches  over  us  with  all-seeing  providence,  each  action  of 
a  prudent  man's  life  would  be  accompanied  with  such  a 
feeling  of  terror  of  ultimate  consequences,  that  life  would 
become  a  burden,  and  the  grave  rest ;  or  we  should  run, 
like  the  Turks,  and  some  of  the  West  country  sects,  into 
the  opposite  extreme  of  saying  that  it  was  all  "  Kismet," 
that  it  mattered  not  what  we  did. 

The  white  terrier  was  so  nearly  chosen,  in  spite  of 
Austin's  strong  repugnance  to  accept  such  a  valuable  pres- 
ent, that  they  had  turned,  and  Austin's  hands  were  eager 
to  seize  the  beautiful  little  animal,  and  call  him  his  own, 
when,  in  the  wood  behind  them,  there  was  a  wild  jubilant 
bark ;  in  another  instant  there  was  a  rush  past  them,  as  of 
an  eagle  coming  through  a  forest ;  in  the  next,  a  dog, 
different  to  any  they  had  seen  before,  was  madly,  joyously 
careering  round  and  round  them  in  ever-narrowing  circles ; 
and  in  another  he  was  leaping  on  both  of  them,  and  cov- 
ering them  with  caresses. 

But  he  saw  that  Austin  was  a  stranger,  and  paused  to 
look  at  him,  and  after  a  moment  he  reared  up  against  him, 
and  said  with  his  beautiful  soft  hazel  eyes,  as  Austin 
thought,  **  Choose  me,  choose  me,  and  I  will  follow  you 
through  it  all,  even  to  the  very  end." 

It  was  a  most  beautiful  Scotch  sheep  dog,  black  and  tan 
and  white,  with  a  delicate  smooth  head,  the  hair  of  which 
began  to  wave  about  the  ears,  until  it  developed  into  a 
deep  mane  upon  the  shoulders.  The  author  has  described 
such  a  dog  before.  The  Scotch  sheep  dog  is  the  highest 
development  of  the  brute  creation,  in  beauty,  in  sagacity, 

35 


Austin  Elliot 

and  in  other  qualities,  which  one  dares,  by  leave  of  Mes- 
sieurs of  the  Holy  Office,  to  call  moral.  This  was  the 
most  beautiful  dog  of  that  variety  ever  seen.  If  the  reader 
wishes  to  realize  the  dog  to  himself  he  can  do  so  thus.  In 
Landseer's  picture  of  "  The  Shepherd's  Bible,"  the  dog 
which  is  standing  up  is  very  like  him  ;  though  the  dog  I 
am  describing  is  drawn  from  the  life,  and  from  a  hand- 
somer dog  than  he. 

•'  This  is  the  dog  for  me,"  cried  Austin.  "  Why,  you 
beauty  !  Miss  Cecil,  I  would  give  anything  for  this  dog. 
Just  look  at  his  eyes,  will  you.  Can  I  have  him  .'*  Does 
he  belong  to  any  one  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  laughing.  "  He  belongs  to  you.  He 
is  worth  all  the  white  terriers  that  ever  w^ere  born.  I  like 
you  the  better  for  your  choice  of  Robin." 

At  this  moment  a  harsh  voice  behind  them  said  : 

"  How  d'ye  do,  Miss  Cecil  ?  By  Jove  !  that  dog  is  a 
deuced  clever  dog.  He  began  by  pitching  into  me,  but 
when  your  father  said,  *  Go  find,  Robin,'  he  became  docile, 
and  brought  me  on  your  track  like  an  Indian.  Is  he 
yours  ?  " 

"  He  is  Mr.  Elliot's.  How  do  you  do,  Captain  Hert- 
ford ?  "  said  Miss  Cecil,  very  coldly. 


Chapter  VI 

Captain  Hertford,  the  man  who  had  just  found  the 
group,  was  a  man  whose  personal  appearance  requires 
some  slight  notice,  and  but  very  slight.  He  was  a  very 
big,  thick-set  man.  He  had  a  broad  red  face,  the  princi- 
pal features  of  which  were  lowering  bushy  eyebrows,  be- 
neath which  were  cruel,  deep-sunk,  light  blue  eyes  ;  and  a 
thick,  coarse  mouth,  too  big  to  be  entirely  hidden  by  the 
moustache  which  met  his  deep  red  whiskers.  The  expres- 
sion of  his  face  was,  towards  men,  scowling  and  insolent ; 
36 


Austin  Elliot 

what  it  was  towards  women  I  know  not,  but  should  fancy 
that,  if  it  was  intended  to  express  admiration,  it  was  more 
repulsive  than  his  ordinary  look  of  defiance  and  ill  temper. 

He  looked  with  intense  eager  curiosity  at  Austin — Aus- 
tin did  not  look  with  much  curiosity  at  him,  or  he  would 
have  seen  him  bite  his  lip  impatiently.  He  might  have 
been  flattered  had  he  heard  the  Captain  say  to  himself, 
"  Consume  the  young  beggar,  he  is  infernally  handsome." 

"You  are  unexpected,  Captain  Hertford,"  said  Miss 
Cecil;  "but  not  the  less  welcome.  Whence  have  you 
come .'' " 

"  I  have  been  at  Brussels  with  Mewstone.  I  stayed  a 
day  or  two  there  after  him.  He  got  hold  of  the  old  Coun- 
tess Dentelles,  and  carried  her  off  to  Malines  with  him. 
They  seem  to  have  been  pretty  busy  those  two  days.  The 
bill  has  come  to  me  in  the  course  of  business." 

"  Is  it  very  large  }  "  said  Miss  Cecil,  laughing. 

"  A  little  over  thirty  thousand  francs." 

"  That  is  very  extravagant." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Captain  Hertford.  "  I  don't  think 
it  is  so  very  bad.  Remember  what  it  must  have  cost  to 
get  the  old  countess  to  leave  her  box  at  the  St.  Hubert, 
with  Levasseur  starring  from  Paris,  and  pack  off  to  Ma- 
lines with  him,  with  her  rheumatism  and  her  monkey. 
When  I  looked  at  the  bill,  I  pointed  to  an  item  of  five  thou- 
sand francs,  and  I  said  to  him,  '  That's  the  old  woman's 
share  ; '  and  he  laughed  and  said,  '  Yes.'  He  got  her  un- 
common cheap,  I  think,  at  that.  She  is  the  best  judge  in 
Europe.  They  would  have  cheated  him  horribly  if  she 
hadn't  gone  with  him." 

Austin  had  no  more  notion  what  they  were  talking 
about  than  the  man  in  the  moon.  He  looked  at  them  both 
with  wonder.     Miss  Cecil  began  again  : 

"  Well,  on  the  whole,  he  could  not  have  done  better.  I 
suppose  the  poor  old  devotee  will  put  it  on  the  shoulders 
of  some  Bambino  or  another.     Poor  old  lady  ! " 

"  What  a  delightful  rummage  she  must  have  had. 
37 


Austin  Elliot 

There  must  have  been  a  great  excitement  at  Malines  at 
her  appearance." 

"  What  detained  you  in  Brussels,  Captain  Hertford  ?  " 

"  Well,  a  very  unpleasant  affair.  An  affair  touching  my 
personal  honour." 

"  Have  you  been  out  again  ?  "  she  asked,  turning  sharp- 
ly upon  him. 

"  No,"  said  Captain  Hertford.  "  A  young  fellow,  an 
Englishman,  had  forged  Mewstone's  name  to  a  large 
amount.  I  followed  him  to  Namur,  to  see  whether  I 
could  recover  anything.  But  when  I  got  to  Namur  he  had 
escaped  me.  My  honour  was  concerned  in  catching  him, 
for  he  was  my  acquaintance,  not  Mewstone's." 

"  Did  you  follow  him  no  farther.^  "  she  asked. 

"  There  was  no  need.  By  the  bye,  Mewstone  is  in  Lon- 
don, and  will  here  the  day  after  to-morrow." 

"  Is  any  one  there  to  act  for  him,  as  the  Countess  Den- 
telles  did  at  Malines  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Captain  Hertford.  "  I  turned  him  into  Run- 
dell  and  Bridges,  as  I  would  turn  a  young  colt  into  a 
clover-field.  They  won't  cheat  him.  It  is  all  convertible 
property.     Will  you  introduce  me  to  Mr.  Elliot  ?  " 

She  did  so.  Captain  Hertford  did  not  scowl  on  him, 
but  smiled.  Austin  thought  possibly  that  his  smile  was 
not  a  pleasant  one,  but  he  did  not  care  for  that.  This 
man  had  been  talking  for  ten  minutes  to  this  woman,  and 
Austin  had  not  the  least  idea  of  what  they  had  been  talk- 
ing about.  This  man  could  talk  to  her  and  amuse  her, 
when  he  sat  mumchance.  He  would  make  himself  a 
pupil  of  this  man.  This  must  be  one  of  the  men  of  the 
world  his  father  talked  of.  But  had  all  the  men  of  the 
world  scowling  eyebrows,  and  great  coarse  mouths,  like 
this  one  } 

Austin  laughed  as  he  asked  himself  this  question.  He 
had  seen  other  men  of  the  world.  His  father,  and  Mr. 
Cecil,  and  the  seven  other  Lords  of  the  Shoals  and  Quick- 
sands, quite  different  in  appearance  to  Captain  Hertford 
38 


Austin  Elliot 

He  did  not  like  the  look  of  this  gentleman,  but  he  would 
be  his  pupil.  He  was  as  eager  for  Captain  Hertford's 
acquaintance,  as  Captain  Hertford  was  for  his. 

They  walked  back,  all  three  towards  the  house,  and 
Miss  Cecil  went  in.  Captain  Hertford  proposed  that  they 
should  extend  their  walk,  and  smoke  a  cigar. 

Austin  was  delighted.  As  they  turned  on  the  broad 
gravel  walk,  Austin  noticed  for  the  first  time  that  the  dog 
Robin  was  at  his  heels.  His  tail  was  down,  and  his  ears 
were  down.  He  was  waiting  for  orders  from  his  new 
master.  The  dog  had  taken  to  hiin.  What  that  means 
I  cannot  tell  you.  I  don't  know,  and  you  don't  know, 
any  more  than  this,  that  sometimes  dogs  take  to  men, 
and  sometimes  they  don't.  And  we  shall  none  of  us 
know  any  more  about  the  matter  until  the  kye  come  hame. 

Apparently,  also.  Captain  Hertford  had  taken  to  Austin. 
His  sudden  affection  for  Austin  is  not  nearly  so  mys- 
terious a  business  as  that  of  the  dog's.  We  shall  find  out 
the  reason  of  that  before  the  kye  come  hame. 

"  Where  shall  we  go  ?  "  said  Captain  Hertford. 

"  Anywhere  you  like,"  said  Austin,  with  the  frankness 
of  a  boy.  "  I  want  to  talk  to  you.  I  want  to  make  your 
acquaintance.  And  any  one  place  is  as  good  as  another 
for  that." 

Captain  Hertford  turned  and  looked  at  him  as  he  said 
this.  There  was  almost  a  smile  on  his  face,  as  he  heard 
Austin  say  this  ;  but  when  he  looked  at  him,  and  saw 
how  handsome  he  was,  he  scowled  again.  It  is  just  pos- 
sible that  this  was  an  important  point  in  Captain  Hert- 
ford's life.  Austin,  with  his  fresh  innocence,  might  have 
won  him  back  to  better  things  possibly.  Who  knows  } 
But  Austin  stood  between  him  and  the  light. 

Hertford  walked  in,  puffing  his  cigar.  He  began  the 
conversation. 

"  By  the  bye,  Elliot,  you  know  the  Hiltons,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Infinitely  well." 

"  Then  I  am  afraid  that  the  beginning  of  our  acquaint- 

39 


Austin  Elliot 

ance  won't  be  very  pleasant.  I  was  detained  in  town  on 
their  account." 

"  Indeed." 

"  Yes.  You  heard  me  speaking  about  an  affair  concern- 
ing a  young  Englishman,  which  detained  me  at  Brussels." 

"  Yes." 

"  Did  you  ever  know  Robert  Hilton  ?  " 

*'  Yes  ;  at  Eton,  poor  lad.  But  I  have  never  seen  him 
since." 

"  You  will  never  see  him  any  more." 

*'  Oh  !  Captain  Hertford,  don't  say  that.  Do  you  mean 
to  say  he  is  dead  }  " 

"If  you  are  going  into  the  world,  you  must  learn  to 
bear  these  things  with  composure,  Elliot.  Now,  lean 
against  that  rock,  and  look  me  in  the  face.  Robert 
Hilton  committed  suicide  the  week  before  last,  at  Namur." 

"  Suicide ! " 

"  Yes,  suicide." 

"  God  forgive  me.  I  was  going  to  say,  that  he  would 
not  have  been  so  bold;  so  —  Poor  lad.  Yet,  I  don't 
know.     Was  there  anything  new  against  him  }  " 

"  Yes.  I  will  tell  you  what  there  was  against  him.  He 
forged  Mewstone's  name." 

"  Good  God  !  " 

"Yes.  And  when  he  thought  it  must  be  discovered, 
fled  to  Namur.  I  sent  a  man  after  him.  A  letter  from 
Hilton,  to  me,  crossed  him  on  the  road.  It  announced 
his  intention  of  making  away  with  himself.  I  was  furious. 
I  thought  it  was  a  miserable  ruse  to  escape.  I  followed 
my  friend  to  Namur.  And  there  I  found  the  whole  busi- 
ness unfortunately  true." 

"  Does  Mr.  Hilton  know  of  this  ?  "  said  Austin,  eagerly. 

"  Yes,  I  broke  it  to  him." 

"How  did  he  take  it?" 

"  Very  quietly.  You  know  the  whole  thing  is  very  sad, 
and  very  lamentable ;  but  Hilton  is  a  man  of  the  world. 
And  with  regard  to  this  boy,  the  bitterness  of  death  was 
40 


Austin  Elliot 

passed.  You  must  know  that.  He  was  a  mauvais  sujet, 
I  don't  mean  to  say  that  the  old  man  was  not  deucedly 
cut  up,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  but  he  took  it  very 
quietly." 

"  Poor  Eleanor,"  said  Austin. 

"  You  mean  Miss  Hilton,"  said  Captain  Hertford. 
"  Well,  she  was  very  much  cut  up.  But  she  will  be  con- 
soled. You  see  this  leaves  her  in  undisputed  possession 
of  nine  thousand  a  year  at  her  father's  death." 

"  She  !  she  weigh  nine  thousand,  or  nine  millions  against 
her  brother's  life !  You  don't  know  Eleanor  Hilton,  Cap- 
tain Hertford." 

"  Nor  you  either,  I  fancy,"  said  Captain  Hertford,  laugh- 
ing. "  Did  I  say  she  weighed  money  against  her  brother's 
life?  Don't  I  know  that  she  would  pitch  it  all  to  the 
dogs  to  have  him  back  again  ?  All  I  said  was,  that  she 
would  console  herself ;  and  you  will  find  that  inexorably 
true.    So  she  will." 

"  Indeed,"  said  Austin.  "  I  suppose  she  will.  After 
all,  the  poor  fellow  was  a  sad  source  of  anxiety  to  them. 
It  is  perhaps  better  she  should  forget  him." 

"  What  a  child  you  are,  Elliot,"  said  Captain  Hertford. 
"  Five  minutes  or  less  ago  you  were  ready  to  fight  me  — 
I  saw  it  in  your  eyes  —  for  saying  she  would  console  her- 
self. Now  you  endorse  it,  repeat  it,  and  say,  it  were  bet- 
ter she  should  do  so." 

This  is  what  some  gentleman  in  "  Martin  Chuzzlewit  " 
calls  "  Dreadful  true."  Austin  had  the  good  taste  to  ac- 
knowledge it. 

"  I  ought,"  he  said,  "  to  go  home,  I  think." 

"  Why  ?  " 

•'  I  don't  know.  I  should  like  to  be  near  poor  Eleanor 
in  her  trouble." 

"  Are  you  caught  there  then  ?  "  said  Captain  Hertford, 
turning  the  other  way,  and  adding,  "  I  wonder  if  he  has 
any  head  of  grouse  here." 

"  I,"  said  Austin,  "  Oh  dear,  no," 

41 


Austin  Elliot 

"  I  thought  you  had  been." 

"  No,"  said  Austin,  blushing  and  hesitating,  '*  Eleanor 
Hilton  and  I  have  been  brought  up  like  brother  and  sister, 
you  know." 

"Oh,  indeed.  I  had  heard  that  you  and  she  were  very 
good  friends.     What  a  beautiful  girl  this  Miss  Cecil  is." 

"Is  she  not?  " 

"  I  suppose  you  are  not  caught  there  ?  " 

"  After  twenty-four  hours,"  Austin  had  voice  enough  to 
say ;  "  No,  I  don't  think  I  am." 

"  Then  you  must  be  a  great  fool,  Elliot,"  said  Captain 
Hertford. 


Chapter  VII 

One  cannot  help  doubting  whether  or  no  Austin  would 
have  written  to  Eleanor  about  his  new  passion,  even  had 
she  not  been  in  trouble  about  her  brother's  death.  At  all 
events,  he  did  not.  He  merely  wrote  her  a  kind  affection- 
ate letter,  full  of  condolence ;  but  said  no  word  of  Miss 
Cecil. 

This  was  an  exception  to  his  general  rule.  For  he 
usually  fell  in  love  with  a  fresh  young  lady,  more  or  less 
ineligible,  every  three  months ;  and  invariably  told  Elea- 
nor all  about  it.  So  that  poor  Eleanor  used  to  get  into  a 
state  of  confusion  ;  and  was  in  the  habit  of  confounding 
the  last  young  lady,  and  the  last  but  one,  to  Austin's  great 
vexation. 

But  he  wrote  to  Lord  Charles  Barty.  He  told  him 
about  Miss  Cecil,  her  beauty,  her  wit,  her  grace,  and  how 
he  was  madly  in  love  with  her ;  and  he  directed  the  letter 
to  Turin.  For  in  this  year  the  Duke  and  Duchess  of  Chesh- 
ire invaded  Italy,  with  an  overwhelming  force,  exacting 
tribute  from  the  various  people  over  whose  necks  their 
chariot  wheels  passed,  taking  w^th  them  also  scholars  and 
experts,  to  show  them  the  best  things  in  the  way  of  art, 
42 


Austin  Elliot 

on  which  to  lay  their  hands,  as  did  Buonaparte,  but,  un- 
like Napoleon,  paying  for  them,  in  hard  cash,  about  twenty 
per  cent,  above  their  actual  value. 

Lord  Charles  Barty  had  a  long  letter  written  to  Austin, 
and  ready  to  send,  when  he  got  Austin's.  Lord  Charles's 
letter  was  full  of  flippant  good-humoured  nonsense.  He 
had  tried  to  whet  his  wits  upon  everything  he  had  seen, 
and  it  is  quite  possible  that  he  had  made  an  indifferent 
success.  We  shall  never  know  about  this,  however,  for 
when  he  got  Austin's  letter  he  burnt  his  own,  wrote  a  new 
one  to  Austin,  an  eager  hasty  one,  of  only  six  or  seven 
lines,  put  it  in  the  post-office  himself,  walked  up  and  down 
until  he  saw  the  Diligence  depart  for  Chambery,  and  then 
bit  his  nails  and  stamped  when  he  considered  that  his  let- 
ter would  be  too  late  to  do  any  good. 

Lord  Charles  Barty  was  not  very  clever :  in  fact,  the 
Bartys  are  not  a  clever  family.  But  they  have  higher  qual- 
ities than  cleverness.  "  In  the  house  of  Waverley  the  qual- 
ities of  honour  and  generosity  are  hereditary."  So  it  may 
be  said  about  the  Bartys.  Lord  Charles  Barty  would  have 
telegraphed  to  his  friend  Austin;  but,  alas!  in  1844,  the 
only  piece  of  telegraph  working  was  from  London  to 
Slough,  and  from  Vauxhall  to  Woking  ;  consequently 
there  was  none  to  Turin.  He  would  have  given  up  his 
holiday,  and  posted  home,  but  he  knew  he  would  be  too 
late.  He  could  only  fret  and  fume,  until  he  told  his  father, 
who  looked  very  grave,  and  said,  that  either  Mr.  Cecil,  or 
Austin,  or  Miss  Cecil,  must  be  very  much  to  blame. 

And  meanwhile  poor  Austin  continued  making  a  fool  of 
himself  with  Miss  Cecil.  Her  manner  was  very  affection- 
ate towards  him.  She  had  known  Eleanor  Hilton,  having 
stayed  with  her  at  a  country  house,  and  she  had  done 
what  every  one  else  did  who  saw  Eleanor,  got  very  deep- 
ly attached  to  her.  This  she  told  to  Austin  the  very  first 
morning  of  their  acquaintance  ;  but  she  had,  of  course, 
not  told  him  something  else.  To  wit,  that  some  one  had 
told  her  of  Eleanor's  having  been  engaged  to  marry  a 

43 


Austin  Elliot 

young  gentleman,  by  name  Elliot,  ever  since  she  could  talk. 
She  was  very  anxious  to  see  the  man  on  whom  so  much 
of  Eleanor's  happiness  depended.  And  she  was  delighted 
and  charmed  to  find  him  so  worthy  of  her.    That  was  all. 

And  so  he  walked  and  rode  and  drove  and  read  with 
her  day  after  day,  getting  more  hopelessly  entangled. 
Captain  Hertford  was  very  busy,  or  seemed  to  be,  with 
her  father,  and  left  Austin  to  cavalier  Miss  Cecil.  Mr. 
Cecil  and  Captain  Hertford  did  really  seem  busy  ;  but  if 
they  had  not  been,  the  latter  would  have  contrived  to 
leave  them  alone  together.     He  had  his  reasons. 

Once  in  the  week  or  ten  days,  he  went  out  with  the 
Captain  to  walk  idly  across  some  farms  to  see  some  im- 
provements. The  bailiff  was  with  them.  A  farmer,  catch- 
ing sight  of  them  at  a  long  distance,  made  towards  them, 
and  then,  hat  in  hand,  and  addressing  Austin  every  tenth 
word  as  "  my  lord,"  began  with  Welsh  volubility  to  lay  a 
case  about  draining  improvements  before  him,  and  pray 
his  assistance.  He  had  gone  on  ever  so  far  before  the 
steward  had  time  to  stop  him  in  a  few  hurried  words  of 
Welsh.  The  man  scowled  on  Austin,  turned  on  his  heel, 
and  departed. 

When  he  was  alone  with  Captain  Hertford,  Austin  said 
to  him,  "  It  is  a  very  curious  thing,  do  you  know ;  but  in 
the  few  days  I  have  been  here,  that  same  thing  has  hap- 
pened in  different  ways  —  not  once,  but  a  dozen  times. 
I  met  a  man  in  the  pass  of  Llanberis,  when  I  was  coming 
here  with  Mr.  Cecil,  who  first  of  all  asked,  with  the  great- 
est empressement,  to  be  introduced  to  me  ;  and  then  when 
he  heard  my  name,  looked  very  much  inclined  to  kick  me. 
I  hope  no  one  will  do  that.  Has  any  man  called  Elliot 
done  anything  very  bad  in  these  parts  ?  " 

"  Not  that  I  know  of.  But  I  will  tell  you  what  I  think. 
I  fancy,  mind,  that  seeing  a  handsome  young  dandy  like 
you,  brought  down  here  by  Mr.  Cecil — mind,  I  only  fancy 
—  that  the  people  think  that  you  are  going  to  marry  Miss 
Cecil." 

44 


Austin  Elliot 

•'  Then  why,"  said  poor  Austin,  "  the  moment  they  hear 
my  name,  do  they  find  out  that  I  am  not  the  man  ?  " 

This  was  awkward.  Captain  Hertford  laughed,  and 
said,  "  I  am  sure  I  don't  know."  In  another  moment, 
Austin  would,  according  to  all  laws  of  probability,  have 
asked  him  whether  Miss  Cecil  was  engaged  to  any  one. 
Possibly  Captain  Hertford  knew  that,  for  he  said,  before 
Austin  had  time  to  say  anything,  "  Miss  Cecil  tells  me  that 
she  gave  you  the  choice  of  all  the  dogs  in  the  kennel. 
Rather  a  compliment,  eh?  What  the  deuce  made  you 
choose  that  infernal  sheep-dog  }  " 

Austin  was  on  his  own  dunghill  immediately.  Captain 
Hertford  knew  he  would  be.  "  Why  did  I  choose  him  ?  " 
he  said.     "  Because  he  is  the  best  specimen  in  the  kennel." 

"  The  most  perfect  specimen  ! "  said  the  artful  Captain, 
scornfully. 

"  Yes." 

"  What !  a  finer  specimen  than  that  glorious  white  ter- 
rier.^ You  must  be  a  fool,  Elliot.  Why,  there  is  not 
such  another  dog  in  the  world  as  that  white  terrier.  Snow- 
white  as  he  seems,  you  can  see,  in  certain  lights,  the  mark- 
ings of  a  perfect  black  and  tan  under  his  white  hair. 
There  is  no  dog  like  him  in  England." 

"  He  is  only  an  Albino  black  and  tan,"  said  Elliot,  scorn- 
fully. "  He  is  a  beautiful  beast,  and  he  is  worth  thirty 
guineas,  I  allow  ;  but  do  you  know  the  points  of  a  Scotch 
colley  ?  eh  !  " 

"  Can't  say  I  do,"  said  Captain  Hertford.  "  Can't  say, 
either,  that  I  know  the  points  of  a  coster-monger's  don- 
key." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Austin,  "  then  you  see  I  do.  I  know  the 
points  of  any  dog  under  the  sun.  This  dog  Robin  is  per- 
fect in  all  points.     Here,  sir !  here  !     Look  at  him." 

Captain  Hertford  looked  at  Robin,  but  Robin  did  not  look 

at  Captain  Hertford.     He  caught  his  eye  for  a  moment, 

and  then  laid  his  leaf-like  ears  back,  drooped  his  tail,  went 

behind  Austin,  and  loped,  or  lurked,  in  his  walk,  which 

45 


Austin  Elliot 

means,  that  he  moved  the  two  legs  which  were  on  the  same 
side  of  him  together. 

Captain  Hertford  laughed,  and  changed  the  subject. 
He  had  done  what  he  wanted.  He  had  prevented  Austin 
from  asking  an  awkward  question.  There  were  three  or 
four  days  to  spare,  by  his  calculations.  He  saw  that  Aus- 
tin had  fallen  deeply  in  love,  poor  fool,  with  Miss  Cecil ; 
he  wanted  him  to  get  deeper  and  deeper  in  that  hopeless 
passion.  Eleanor  Hilton  was  heiress  to  nine  thousand  a 
year.  He  had  an  introduction  to  Eleanor  through  her 
brother's  unfortunate  death.  Austin  must  be  entangled 
with  some  one  else  for  a  time. 

Captain  Hertford,  however,  was  playing  a  very  danger- 
ous game.  He  was  "  necessary  man  "  to  Lord  Mewstone. 
He  had  been  sent  to  Tyn  y  Rhaiadr  as  his  avant-courrier. 
He  had  found  Austin  there,  in  the  very  act  of  falling  in 
love  with  Miss  Cecil. 

He  had  come  to  England  from  Brussels,  with  the  idea 
that  Eleanor  and  her  nine  thousand  a  year  were  worth  get- 
ting at.  He  had  heard  that  Austin  was  supposed  to  be 
engaged  to  her.  He  had  come  to  Tyn  y  Rhaiadr,  and 
found  him,  of  all  men  in  the  world,  there,  and  he  had  acted 
as  above.  His  plans  were  not  well  developed,  and  might 
be  changed  ;  but  he  had  no  doubt  of  this  —  that  if  he  let 
him  commit  himself  deeply  to  Miss  Cecil,  it  must  be  better 
for  his  plans  in  the  long  run. 


Chapter  VIII 

But,  on  the  eighth  day,  Austin's  eyes  were  opened  to 
the  true  state  of  the  case  in  this  manner :  — 

It  was  Sunday  morning ;  Mr.  Cecil  and  Captain  Hertford 
had  not  gone  to  church,  pleading  that  the  service  was  in 
Welsh.  Miss  Cecil  had  gone,  however,  and  Austin  had 
gone  with  her. 

They  returned  by  the  path  which  led  past  the  waterfall, 
46 


Austin  Elliot 

where  he  had  first  seen  her,  and  there,  upon  the  giddy 
bridge,  in  the  presence  of  the  great  sheet  of  rushing  foam, 
he  knew  his  fate.  On  the  rocky  path  above  them  stood 
a  tall  and  handsome  man.  Miss  Cecil  gave  a  little  cry 
when  she  caught  sight  of  him ;  and  when  Austin  saw  her 
two  little  gloved  hands  trembling  out  from  under  her  shawl 
towards  him,  he  knew  everything.  The  eager  movement 
of  those  little  hands  was  as  stern  a  death-blow  to  his  hope, 
as  though  the  man  who  stood  above  her,  and  held  out  his 
arms  to  her,  had  taken  her  in  them,  and  cast  her  into  the 
seething  cataract  a  hundred  feet  below. 

Alas,  poor  Austin  !  He  was  a  gentleman,  and  looked 
earnestly  at  the  waterfall,  lest  he  should  see  the  meeting. 
When  he  looked  round  again,  they  were  standing  side  by 
side,  radiant,  handsome,  and  joyous ;  and  he  could  see  that 
she  was  talking  about  him. 

So  he  went  up  to  them,  and  was  presented  by  Miss  Cecil 
to  Lord  Mewstone. 

Every  one  had  known  of  the  engagement  between  Miss 
Cecil  and  Lord  Mewstone  for  months  —  every  one  except, 
apparently,  poor  ignorant  Austin.  All  Mr.  Cecil's  enor- 
mous estates  went  to  his  daughter.  These  estates  bor- 
dered, in  two  counties,  on  those  of  Lord  Mewstone.  His 
marriage  with  Miss  Cecil  would  well-nigh  double  his  al- 
ready great  wealth.  Mr.  Cecil  had  refused  a  peerage, 
because  he  saw  that  it  would  take  place,  and  it  was  not 
worth  while  leaving  the  House  of  Commons  —  having  no 
male  issue,  and  being  in  full  work  —  at  least  not  at  present. 
There  was  as  much  land  as  goes  to  make  some  indepen- 
dent states.  There  were  deep  political  considerations  at 
stake  in  this  great  match.  It  was  an  affair  of  enormous 
importance,  and  here  was  poor  ignorant  self-confident  little 
Austin,  flying  his  kite  in  the  middle  of  it  all  with  a  calm 
unconsciousness  of  the  fact  that  the  only  human  being 
there  who  guessed  his  secret.  Captain  Hertford,  was  at  one 
time  laughing  at,  at  another  time  admiring  his  amazing 
impudence. 

47 


Austin  Elliot 

"  By  Gad  ! "  said  Captain  Hertford  to  himself,  "  what 
the  deuce  is  it  ?  Is  it  innocence,  or  is  it  mere  vanity  ?  If 
I  had  had  that  amount  of  unconscious  impudence  early  in 
life,  I  might  have  done  better." 

People  said  that  this  marriage  of  Lord  Mewstone  with 
Fanny  Cecil  was  a  family  and  political  arrangement.  If 
so,  it  was  an  uncommonly  fortunate  one,  for  each  of  them 
loved  the  ground  which  the  other  walked  on.  Let  us  wish 
them  good-bye  for  ever.  Our  way  lies  in  a  very  different 
direction.  We  must  quit  this  happy  house  among  the 
Welsh  hills ;  but  I  am  sorry  to  say  we  must  take  away 
Captain  Hertford  with  us,  and  keep  him  with  us  altogether, 
or  nearly  so. 

Austin's  adieux  were  easily  made.  The  poor  miserable 
lad  had  only  to  say  that  he  would  take  the  opportunity  of 
travelling  as  far  as  Chester  with  Captain  Hertford  (there 
was  no  railway  farther  than  Chester  in  1844),  for  that  he 
must  join  his  reading  party.  He  received  a  hearty  farewell 
from  every  one,  and  jumped  into  the  carriage  beside  Cap- 
tain Hertford,  to  go  to  Bangor. 

And  when  Captain  Hertford  looked  at  him,  he  saw  that 
his  face  was  changed  since  yesterday.  Yesterday  it  was 
the  face  of  a  remarkably  handsome  young  man,  with  merry 
blue  eyes.  To-day  it  was  the  same  ;  the  features  as  reg- 
ular as  those  of  Buonaparte  or  Castlereagh ;  the  firm  cut 
mouth,  with  the  lower  lip  slightly  pouting ;  the  short  curl- 
ing brown  hair,  the  pure  complexion,  were  all  there ;  and 
yet  there  was  a  difference  since  yesterday.  Austin,  as  he 
sat  in  the  carriage,  was  as  handsome  as  Buonaparte  or 
Castlereagh,  but  had  now,  though  his  face  was  at  rest,  a 
look  which  Lord  Whitworth  must  have  seen  on  the  face  of 
the  one,  and  Mr.  Raikes  on  the  face  of  the  other — a  look  of 
angry,  furious  defiance.  It  was  expressed  in  only  one  feat- 
ure— in  the  eyes.  Austin's  great  blue  eyes,  always  set  a  tri- 
fle too  near  his  eyebrows,  were  now  prominent,  surrounded 
with  a  black  ring ;  and  whenever  Captain  Hertford  spoke 
to  him,  he  turned  them  on  him  angrily,  though  his  speech 
48 


Austin  Elliot 

was  gentle.  Those  eyes  seemed  to  say,  "  How  dare  you 
disturb  me  ?  "  And  as  Captain  Hertford  looked  on  them, 
that  veteran  warrior  and  bully  said  to  himself,  "  The  fellow 
will  do.     He  has  power." 

And  he  remembered  the  look  of  those  eyes,  when  Austin 
was  in  that  humour.  The  old  calm  look  soon  came  back 
again,  and  Captain  Hertford  never  saw  that  look  in  them 
any  more  until  the  i6th  of  May,  1846.  The  night  on 
which  the  Corn  Law  Bill  was  read  the  third  time  in  the 
Commons. 

But  after  a  very  few  miles,  scarcely  more  than  one,  a 
change  took  place.  Austin  was  disappointed  and  humili- 
ated beyond  what  one  can  well  conceive,  and  he  also 
fancied,  and  most  properly,  that  he  had  been  deceived  by 
Captain  Hertford.  But  the  great  good  heart,  which,  in 
spite  of  all  weakness  and  conceit,  dictated  all  his  actions, 
told  him  that  he  must  speak  to  some  one.  There  was  no 
one  but  this  red-faced,  red-haired  soldier,  with  his  sly  little 
eyes,  his  coarse  moustache,  and  his  great  gluttonous 
mouth ;  and  so  he  must  talk  to  him.  He  had  the  strong- 
est repugnance  to  him  personally.  Yes.  He  had  deceived 
him  and  played  with  him,  and  hurt  his  pride.  But  — 
Well  —  the  man  was  a  man.  The  fellow  could  ride,  for 
all  his  little  deep-set  eyes.  Not  only  could  ride,  but  would 
ride ;  not  only  would  ride,  but  had  ridden,  so  deep  into  a 
regiment  of  infuriated  Affghans,  that  the  squadron,  which 
hated  him  while  they  followed  him,  could  see  nothing  of 
him  but  the  sword  which  flickered  about  his  head. 

So  he  was  a  man  at  all  events,  though  he  might  be  only 
a  led  Captain  of  Lord  Mewstone's.  And  Austin  must 
speak  to  some  one.  And  so  the  expression  of  the  eyes 
changed  altogether  when  he  next  spoke  to  Captain  Hert- 
ford. He  had  the  dog  Robin's  head  between  his  knees, 
and  was  smoothing  his  round  forehead,  when  he  looked 
up  suddenly,  and  said  to  Captain  Hertford,  in  a  low 
voice — 

"  I  was  in  love  with  that  woman." 

49 


Austin  Elliot 

Captain  Hertford  looked  uneasily  at  the  coachman,  but 
Austin  had  calculated  on  that,  and  spoken  very  low.  Cap- 
tain Hertford  said — 

"  Well !  well !  and  are  in  a  rage  with  me,  are  you  not  ?  " 

Austin  was  easily  disarmed  ;  he  said  quietly,  "  No  ;  I 
am  in  a  rage  with  no  one  but  myself.  What  right  has  a 
poor  ignorant  boy,  like  me,  to  be  in  a  rage  with  a  man  of 
the  world  like  you  ?  " 

Captain  Hertford  turned  suddenly  upon  him,  and  then 
turned  suddenly  away  again.  "  I  thought,"  he  said,  "  that 
you  might  be  angry  because  I  did  not  tell  you  that  she 
was  engaged  to  Lord  M." 

"  No.  You  were  not  called  on  to  do  so.  What  a  fool 
I  must  have  been  on  the  other  hand,  eh  }  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  there :  you  are  singularly  hand- 
some, and  very  ambitious.  That  sort  of  thing  happens 
very  often.  There  was  Charley  Bates  and  Miss  Dawkins, 
for  instance.  Charley  had  led  a  deuce  of  a  life  with  her 
uncle,  old  Fagin,  and  Jack  Dawkins,  her  brother,  a  fellow 
that  every  one  knew,  but  who  had  gone  to  the  devil  lately. 
Old  Fagin  got  hung,  no  one  ever  found  out  what  for,  and 
Charley  hadn't  got  a  rap.  So  what  does  he  do.  Makes 
up  to  Miss  Dawkins,  who  had  come  into  the  old  man's 
money  (her  mother  was  a  Moss  —  one  of  the  Monmouth- 
street  Mosses  —  who  had  married  Fagin 's  brother,  about 
which  there  was  a  story,  sir,  and  a  devilish  queer  one,  if  you 
come  to  that)  and  married  her,  and  made  her  cut  the  shop, 
and  went  into  a  quiet  farm  in  the  grass  shires,"  &c.  &c. 

Mutatis  nomimbus,  this  was  about  the  value  of  the  con- 
solation which  Captain  Hertford  administered  to  Austin, 
as  they  drove  to  Bangor.  It  was  possibly  as  good  as  any 
other ;  for  the  way  of  consoling  a  gentleman  in  Austin's 
circumstances  has  got  to  be  discovered,  as  far  as  the 
author  is  aware. 

When  Austin  got  to  town,  he  found  a  letter  from  his 
father.  Mr.  Elliot  had  not  returned  from  Liverpool. 
Certain  Brethren,  feeling  that  they  had  quite  as  good  a 
50 


Austin  Elliot 

right  to  a  holiday  as  My  Lords  of  the  Shoals  and  Quick- 
sands, had  made  the  discovery  that  the  man  Elliot  had 
taken  all  the  Shoals'  Lords  up  in  their  yacht,  and  that  they 
were  (no  doubt)  tampering  with  the  buoys  on  the  Sarn 
Padrig,  which  buoys  were  their  business.  It  was  intoler- 
able. They  started  in  their  yacht  in  hot  pursuit,  overtook 
the  miscreants  in  Beaumauris  bay,  had  a  wrangle,  and 
then  steamed  off  to  the  island  of  Mull,  the  two  yachts 
racing  till  the  boilers  primed,  to  see  whether  the  new  light- 
house had  been  painted  red,  according  to  Mr.  Elliot's  sug- 
gestion, or  white,  according  to  their  (the  Trinity  Brothers') 
orders.  But  they  had  a  pleasant  time  of  it,  and  dined 
mutually  with  infinite  good  fellowship,  in  spite  of  all  this 
divine  wrath. 

Austin  was  still  smiling  over  this  letter,  when  he  took  up 
another.     It  was  in  Eleanor's  handwriting,  and  ran  thus  — 

"  If  you  do  come  home  unexpectedly,  dear  Austin,  pray 
come  and  see  me  at  once.    Father  is  very  ill. 

E.  H." 

Austin  rang  for  his  servant,  and  asked  when  the  note 
had  come. 

"  Not  half  an  hour  ago,"  the  man  said.  Austin  started 
at  once. 

The  Hiltons  lived  in  Wilton  Crescent.  He  hurried 
there  as  quick  as  he  could. 

He  was  shown  into  the  dining-room.  Of  course  his  first 
question  was,  "  How  is  Mr.  Hilton  ?  " 

He  was  worse.  Miss  Hilton  would  come  down  at  once 
however. 

There  was  a  footstep  in  the  passage  he  knew  full  well, 
and  he  looked  out  of  the  window.  He  felt  disinclined  to 
see  Eleanor  for  some  reason  ;  he  would  have  to  tell  her  of 
this  foolish  business  about  Miss  Cecil,  and  was  disinclined 
to  begin.  He  heard  the  door  quietly  opened  and  the 
gentle  rustle  of  a  woman's  dress,  and  he  knew  that  Elea- 

51 


Austin  Elliot 

nor  Hilton  was  in  the  room,  so  he  turned  and  confronted 
this  terrible  lady,  and  felt  his  heart  beat  the  quicker  as  he 
did  so. 

There  stood  before  him  a  tiny  delicate  dark  woman, 
dressed  very  neatly,  in  very  quiet  colours.  She  was  like  a 
little  fragile  brown  moth,  a  thing  you  may  crush  with  your 
finger ;  and  the  wee  little  elfin  thing  stood  before  him 
with  her  hands  crossed  for  an  instant,  without  speaking. 
If  Austin  had  looked  at  the  eager  twitching  of  those  hands 
he  would  have  known  something  even  then.  He  knew 
what  that  motion  of  the  hands  meant  a  day  or  two  before, 
when  he  saw  Miss  Cecil  raise  her  hands  towards  Lord 
Mewstone ;  but  he  did  not  notice  it  now,  for  he  was  look- 
ing into  her  face. 

Was  it  a  handsome  face  ?  —  ah,  no  !  Was  it  a  beauti- 
ful face  ?  —  ah,  dear,  yes  !  Her  hair  was  banded  closely 
down  on  each  side  of  her  great  forehead,  and  her  eyes, 
her  clear  large  hazel  eyes,  said  as  plainly  as  words  could 
have  said  to  him,  "  I  am  a  poor  little  body  and  very  ugly, 
but  I  will  love  you  if  you  will  let  me."  All  her  features 
were  very  regular  but  very  small,  and  though  her  upper  lip 
was  sharp  and  her  chin  was  short,  the  mouth  was  the  best 
feature  in  her  face,  though  it  might  be  set  too  near  her 
nose,  and  too  near  her  chin,  yet  it  was  an  exceeding  ten- 
der mouth ;  although  it  was  as  sharp  cut  as  Sarah  Sid- 
dons',  it  helped  almost  as  much  as  the  gentle  eyes  and  the 
open  forehead  to  make  you  say  to  yourself,  "  What  a  dear 
fragile  loveable  little  body  it  is." 

The  Author  wonders  whether  or  no  it  would  not  have 
been  better  if  he  had  said  at  first  that  she  was  like  a  gentle 
bright-eyed  little  brown  mouse.  It  is  possible  that  it  may 
be  so. 

"  I  knew,"  she  said,  coming  up  and  taking  his  hands, 
"  that  you  would  come  to  me." 

"  Dear  sister,"  he  said,  looking  into  her  face,  "of  course 
I  came  to  you.     How  is  he  .^  " 

"  Worse." 

52 


Austin  Elliot 

"  Who  is  here  ?  " 

"  No  one  but  Aunt  Maria." 

"  Isn't  she  too  much  for  him  ?  You  know  /  have  a  pro- 
found respect  for  Aunt  Maria,  but  at  the  same  time  you 
know " 

At  this  moment  Aunt  Maria,  always  profoundly  pene- 
trated with  the  idea  that  young  people  should  not  be  left 
too  long  alone  together,  came  into  the  room. 

She  was  a  big,  red-faced  woman,  with  a  Roman  nose 
and  a  protruding  chin.  A  woman  of  presence  —  of  such 
powerful  presence  that  when  she  entered  the  room  at  one 
end  and  you  were  at  the  other,  with  your  back  towards 
her,  you  knew  it.  Was  it  merely  by  the  vibration  of  the 
air,  one  wonders,  or  is  there,  after  all,  such  a  thing  as  ani- 
mal magnetism  } 

She  was  a  stern  woman,  with  bangles  and  brooches  and 
a  shawl.  She  revolved  in  her  orbit,  surrounded  by  an  at- 
mosphere of  Patchouli,  calculated,  by  people  curious  in 
astronomy,  as  being  from  eleven  to  twelve  times  greater 
than  her  own  diameter. 

The  moment  that  Austin  found  himself  within  the  atmos- 
phere, he  spoke,  and  asked  her  how  she  did  ?  She  kept  her 
nose  in  the  air,  and  motioned  Eleanor  out  of  the  room. 

"  My  poor  brother  is  dying,"  she  said  ;  "  and,  my  dear 
Austin,  he  wants  to  see  your  father.  What  is  to  be 
done }  " 

"  Why,  we  can  do  nothing,  dear  Miss  Hilton ;  my  father 
is  in  the  Hebrides.     Let  me  see  him." 

"  It  might  be  unwise ;  I  really  don't  know  what  to  say. 
Whether  or  no  a  strange  face  —  " 

"  Mine  is  not  a  strange  face.  Miss  Hilton." 

"  No,  no !  but  I  am  in  terror ;  it  is  your  father  he 
wants.     When  did  you  come  ?  " 

"  Just  now ;  Eleanor  wrote  for  me." 

"  She  did,  did  she  !  It  was  giving  you  a  great  deal  of 
trouble,"  she  said,  looking  very  angry. 

Now  Aunt  Maria  did  not  want  Austin  to  see  old  Hilton, 
53 


Austin  Elliot 

if  she  could  decently  help  it,  for  these  simple  reasons. 
He  had  been  raving  to  see  Mr.  Elliot ;  and  one  of  his 
great  anxieties  was,  as  they  gathered  from  his  talk,  that 
Austin  should  marry  Eleanor.  Aunt  Maria  was  very 
strongly  opposed  to  this.  She  was  selfish.  She  had  great 
power  with  Eleanor,  and  Eleanor  would  be  an  heiress. 
Eleanor  might  never  marry  at  all,  which  would  be  for  her 
benefit,  and  if  she  did  marry  she  might  marry  a  better 
man  than  Austin.  She  was  a  silly  woman  as  well  as  a 
selfish  one.  She  was  taken  by  surprise  at  Austin's  ap- 
pearance, and  not  knowing  very  well  what  to  do,  did  what 
silly  women  generally  do  when  they  don't  see  their  way  — 
that  is  to  say,  did  nothing,  but  opposed  everything.  So 
she  tried  to  prevent  Austin  from  seeing  Mr.  Hilton.  She 
failed,  as  we  shall  see  ;  and  though  the  interview  was  not 
very  important  at  first  sight,  yet  it  had  some  slight  effect 
on  the  course  of  the  story.  Aunt  Maria's  intrigue  against 
Austin  (in  which  she  was,  according  to  her  light,  con- 
scientious) grew  to  be  much  more  important  afterwards. 
She  was  a  foolish  woman,  but  her  obstinacy,  and  her 
want  of  sensibility,  gave  her  a  terrible  power.  Greater 
and  stronger  people  than  dear  Eleanor  have  submitted  to 
an  Aunt  Maria  for  very  peace  sake. 

Austin  would  never  have  seen  Mr.  Hilton,  I  believe,  if 
it  had  not  happened  that  Sir  Rufus  James,  the  doctor,  had 
happened  to  be  upstairs,  and  had  come  into  the  dining- 
room  on  his  way  to  his  carriage.  Austin  looked  in  his 
kind  gentle  face,  and  ignoring  Aunt  Maria,  said  — 

"  Sir  Rufus,  look  here.  Mr.  Hilton  wants  to  see  my 
father,  and  he  is  in  the  Hebrides.  Don't  you  think  I 
might  go  up  and  see  him  ?  " 

The  doctor  looked  kindly  on  him,  and  said,  "  Certainly. 
It  may  please  him.  It  will  do  no  man  any  harm  to  look 
at  you,  my  boy.  You  have  got  your  mother's  eyes.  Yes, 
go  and  see  him." 

And  so  Aunt  Maria  was  vanquished,  and  Austin  went 
upstairs. 

54 


Austin  Elliot 

It  was  hours  before  Mr.  Hilton  was  sensible  again.  He 
was  lying  in  an  uneasy  slumber.  Austin  came  into  the 
room,  went  out  again,  and  waited. 

At  last  the  message  came.  He  went  in  and  found  the 
old  man  sitting  up  in  bed.  At  first  he  thought  he  was 
sensible,  but  the  first  words  of  Mr.  Hilton  showed  him 
that  he  was  wrong.  They  showed  him  that  Mr.  Hilton 
mistook  him  for  his  father. 

"  Ah,  Elliot,"  he  said,  "  I  thought  you  would  not  miss 
coming  to  see  me  at  the  last  —  you  who  stuck  to  me 
through  it  all.     And  so  you  have  gone  before,  eh  ?  " 

Austin  muttered  something  or  another. 

"  Yes,  you  are  like  the  others,  you  speak  inarticulately. 
I  can  hardly  catch  what  you  say.  I  shall  be  able  to  hear 
you  better  soon.  I  could  not  hear  them  very  well.  Why 
were  you  not  here  with  them  ?  " 

Austin  again  said  something.  He  was  beginning  to  get 
awe-struck. 

"  It  was  such  a  pleasant  meeting,"  continued  the  old 
man.  "  It  was  in  the  middle  of  the  night.  My  daughter 
Eleanor  heard  me  laughing  with  them,  and  she  came  and 
sat  on  the  bed,  just  where  she  is  sitting  now,  and  listened 
to  us  three.     Did  you  not,  my  darling  ?  " 

Eleanor  said,  Yes,  that  she  had  sat  on  the  bed  at  half- 
past  twelve  for  some  time,  and  she  grew  pale. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  she  sat  there ;  and  who  do  you  think 
sat  in  those  two  chairs  on  each  side  of  the  bed  ?  " 

"  I  can't  tell,"  faltered  Austin,  who  began  to  feel  his 
hair  creep.  For  the  old  man  before  him  was  talking  as 
clearly  as  ever,  and  yet  he  was  delirious  and  did  not  know 
him. 

"  Can't  tell,  foolish  man  !  Why,  Jenkinson  sat  in  that 
chair,  and  Canning  in  that,  and  my  daughter  heard  us 
laughing,  all  three  of  us,  and  came  to  listen.  Is  it  not  so, 
little  one  ?  " 

"  I  heard  you  laughing,  dear  father,  and  came  and  sat 
on  the  bed  to  listen." 

55 


Austin  Elliot 

"  See.  She  confirms  me.  Jenkinson  had  on  his  brown 
coat,  and  Canning  was  laughing  at  it.  But  the  strange 
thing  was,  the  alteration  in  them.  They  did  not  look  hag- 
gard, and  anxious,  and  worn  old  men,  as  they  looked  when 
we  saw  them  last,  but  they  had  round  merry  beardless 
faces,  just  as  you  have  now,  and  as  we  all  four  of  us  had 
at  Christchurch  fifty-five  weary  years  agone. 

"  I  mentioned  that  unhappy  Austerlitz  affair  to  them, 
but  they  said  that  was  forgiven  years  ago ;  that  where 
they  were  everything  was  forgiven,  and  that  the  tears  were 
wiped  from  all  eyes.  I  will  try  to  sleep  a  little  before  I 
wake  and  die." 

After  this  he  leant  against  his  pillow  for  a  minute,  and 
then,  with  an  anxious  look,  turned  towards  Austin,  and 
said  — 

"  Elliot !  Elliot !  are  you  there  still  ?  " 

Austin  answered  promptly,  "  yes."  It  was  no  use  un- 
deceiving him  now. 

"  I  was  nearly,"  said  Mr.  Hilton,  '^forgetting  the  most 
important  part  of  it.  Elliot,  do  you  think  your  son  will 
marry  my  daughter,  Eleanor  ?  " 

Austin  dared  say  nothing. 

"  I  can't  hear  you.  I  wish?  he  would.  She  is  ugly,  but 
she  is  amazingly  gentle  and  good.  She  will  have  an  im- 
mense deal  of  money.  He  is  good,  clever,  and  ambitious. 
With  her  money,  he  will  be  Prime  Minister  if  he  sticks  to 
work.     I  wish  it  could  be  managed.     I  can't  hear  you." 

"  I  put  the  case  to  Jenkinson  last  night.  He  said  she 
was  pretty  ;  but  he  is  a  fool,  she  is  not.  He  said  that  he 
might  do  anything  in  the  world  with  her  money.  Speak 
louder." 

"  Without  her  money  he  will  be  an  office-hunter.  He 
may  have  the  world  at  his  feet  with  my  daughter's  money. 
The  doctor  told  me  that  that  old  rat,  Cecil,  had  got  him 
home,  to  throw  him  against  that  handsome  daughter  of 
his,  and  use  him  as  a  foil  to  bring  Mewstone  to  the  point. 
You  must  know,  Elliot,  that  he  is  only  fooling  the  poor 
56 


I 


Austin  Elliot 

boy ;  but  if  he  marries  my  girl  he  may  have  his  revenge 
on  fifty  prigs  like  Mewstone.  See  to  it.  See  to  it.  Good 
night." 

We  have  slightly  sketched  Mr.  Hilton's  career,  and  this 
was  the  end  of  it.     He  fell  asleep,  and  awoke  to  die. 

Let  the  cunning,  avaricious,  yet  generous  and  high- 
minded  old  man  sleep  in  peace.  He  made  one  terrible 
mistake  in  life  —  his  treasonable  investment  in  the  French 
Funds.  He  said  on  his  death-bed  that  "  Jenkinson  "  had 
forgiven  him.    I  dare  say  it  is  true. 


Chapter  IX 

So  after  Austin  went  home,  when  poor  Mr.  Hilton  was 
dead,  he  found  these  two  sentences  ringing  in  his  ears — 
"  He  might  be  Prime  Minister  with  Eleanor's  money,"  and 
"  That  old  rat,  Cecil,  had  him  there  as  a  foil  to  bring  Mew- 
stone to  the  point." 

About  the  first  of  these  sentences  I  have  nothing  to 
say ;  about  the  second  I  have  this  to  say — that  whoever 
put  that  into  the  dying  man's  head  told,  unwittingly,  per- 
haps, a  very  great  falsehood.  You  know  that  from  what 
has  gone  before.  If  ever  there  was  a  love-match  between 
two  folks,  that  match  was  between  Lord  and  Lady  Mew- 
stone. 

We  have  very  litde  more  to  do  with  them,  or  with  peo- 
ple in  their  rank  of  life.  Austin  was  getting  out  of  his 
depth,  and  we  must  follow  him.  But  Austin  was  bred  to 
ambition  from  his  cradle,  and  that  visit  to  Mr.  Cecil's 
house,  combined  with  one  sentence  which  Mr.  Hilton  let 
fall  on  his  death-bed,  influenced  that  ambition,  whatever 
there  may  have  been  of  it  at  that  time,  tenfold,  although 
after  the  one  great  effort  of  his  life  that  ambition  went  to 
sleep  again. 

For  he  began  to  think,  "  Who  was  this  Lord  Mewstone, 

57 


Austin  Elliot 

to  come  cranking  in  that  style  ?  and  who  was  he,  Austin 
Elliot,  that  a  cunning  old  man  of  the  world  should  use 
such  a  stinging,  coarse  sentence  about  him  as  that  .   .  ."  * 

He  was  both  handsomer  and  cleverer  than  Lord  Mew- 
stone  ;  he  knew  that  very  well,  as  did  every  one  else.  He 
had  some  private  fortune.  What  was  there  in  a  young 
fellow  in  his  position  which  made  these  men  of  the  world 
treat  with  contempt,  the  idea  that  he  should  marry  her  ? 
She  came  of  an  old  county  family,  hitherto  not  ennobled, 
so  did  he.  Her  family  had  certainly  laid  house  to  house 
and  field  to  field.  His  family  had  done  rather  the  con- 
trary. 

There  was  no  earthly  reason  for  it  save  this,  that  the 
world  —  that  world  in  the  dread  of  whose  opinion  his 
father  had  brought  him  up  —  wouldn't  hear  of  such  a 
thing.  And  then  he  began  to  say,  "  What  right  had  the 
world  ?  "  and  so  on.  He  had  been  a  submissive  young 
whelp  hitherto,  but  the  world  had  (as  he  thought)  tried  to 
take  his  bone  from  him,  and  he  growled.  But,  like  a  good 
dog,  he  soon  went  to  kennel,  and  behaved  himself. 

Another  speech  of  the  old  man's  still  lingered  pleasantly 
in  his  ears,  "  He  might  be  Prime  Minister."  That  was 
very  pleasant  to  think  of.  He  might  be  a  greater  man 
than  that  prig  Mewstone  still.  His  degree  would  be  a 
high  one,  there  was  no  doubt  of  that.  The  world  was  be- 
fore him,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing ;  but  the  old  man  had 
annexed  one  condition  to  his  being  Prime  Minister,  and 
that  was,  that  he  should  have  Eleanor's  money. 

And  so  he  took  a  resolution,  not,  I  hope,  unworthy  of 
him.  A  fortnight  after  Mr.  Hilton's  funeral,  he  ordered 
his  horse  to  be  saddled;  he  mounted  it, whistled  to  Robin, 
and  rode  off  through  the  pleasant  lanes  and  commons  of 
Surrey  towards  Esher,  where  Eleanor  was  staying,  accom- 
panied by  her  Aunt  Maria. 

Sometimes,  under  very  happy  influences,  men  who  have 

*  I  have  abstained  from  printing  that  sentence  :  it  is  as  well  to 
avoid  unnecessary  coarseness. 

58 


Austin  Elliot 

just  had  a  terrible  disappointment  in  love,  will  so  far  for- 
get it  as  to  whistle,  and,  to  outward  eyes,  appear  for  a 
short  time  as  if  they  had  forgotten  it.  Such  was  the  case 
now,  as  Austin  rode  along  the  deep,  over-arching  lanes, 
and  past  the  pleasant  village  greens,  with  his  dog  bound- 
ing before  him,  and  looking  back  to  see  if  he  were  com- 
ing. 

He  had  not  ridden  very  far  before  he  came  to  a  deep, 
dark  lane,  with  a  silver  ford  at  the  lower  end,  and  a  clack- 
ing mill,  with  a  pretty  flower  garden,  and  bees.  It  was  a 
very  beautiful  place,  and  as  he  stopped  to  look  at  it,  he 
heard  a  horseman  riding  quickly  down  the  lane  towards 
him. 

He  turned,  and  saw  approaching  him,  on  a  noble  horse, 
a  young  man  in  white  trousers,  gallantly  dressed,  who 
waved  his  hand  to  him.  Austin  took  off  his  hat  and 
waved  it  in  return.  The  next  moment,  the  new  comer 
was  beside  him,  and  their  hands  were  locked  together. 

"  Dear  Austin  !  "  said  the  one. 

"  My  dear  old  fellow  !  "  said  Austin. 

Perhaps  the  miller's  daughter,  looking  out  slyly  from 
behind  the  sunny  flower-beds,  faint  with  wallflowers,  at 
these  two  noble  young  men,  who  rode, 

"A  bow-shot  from  her  bower  eaves," 

in  the  summer  sunshine,  said  to  herself,  that  they  were  the 
handsomest  and  noblest  pair  of  brothers  she  had  ever  seen. 
Perhaps  she  talked  too  much  about  them  walking  home 
from  church  next  Sunday  with  her  sweetheart,  and  made 
him  sulky  about  them,  until  he  and  she  kissed  and  made 
it  up  again  on  the  Sabbath  eventide,  between  the  tangled 
hedges  of  dogrose  and  honeysuckle,  under  the  whispering 
elm-trees.  Who  knows  ?  But  whether  this  happened  or 
not,  she  might  have  walked  all  England  through,  and  not 
found  a  handsomer  pair  of  young  men  than  they. 

The  young  man  who  had  overtaken  Austin  was  Lord 
Charles  Barty,  the  friend  of  his  heart,  as  like  Austin  in 

59 


Austin  Elliot 

mind  as  he  was  in  features.  Their  friendship  had  begun 
at  school,  and  had  never  waned,  had  never  had  a  shadow 
cast  over  it  as  yet,  and  it  lasted  on  to  the  very  end,  just  the 
same,  without  let  or  hindrance,  till  the  whole  business  was 
done  and  finished,  and  people  began  to  take  their  partners 
for  the  next  dance. 

After  describing  Austin,  there  is  hardly  much  need  to 
describe  his  friend,  for  they  were  not  unlike  in  face  at  this 
time.  They  were  both  blonde,  handsome  boys,  really  noth- 
ing more.  Not  a  hair  on  either  of  their  chins  which  they 
dared  (not  being  in  the  cavalry)  to  let  grow.  If  both  faces 
had  ever  developed,  we  should,  I  think,  have  found  that 
Lord  Charles's  face  was  the  most  aquiline  of  the  two,  and 
that  his  eyebrows  were  more  lofty.  But  there  was  not 
much  character  in  either  of  their  faces  just  now.  It  would 
require,  as  any  one  might  see,  a  great  deal  of  the  padding 
to  come  off  those  faces,  before  you  began  to  see  the  death's 
head  underneath. 

"  I  know  where  you  are  going  to,  old  fellow,"  said  Lord 
Charles,  as  they  rode  together.  "  The  butler  told  me,  and 
I  came  on  after  you.     I  am  glad  you  are  going  there." 

"  I  am  only  going,  Charles,  to  prevent  my  ever  going 
again,  perhaps." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  are  going  to  give  up 
Eleanor  Hilton  ?  "  said  the  other,  looking  serious. 

Charles  told  him  what  had  passed  at  Mr.  Hilton's  death- 
bed. 

Lord  Charles  rode  in  silence  a  little  way,  and  at  last  said  : 

*'  You  can't  be  wrong,  Austin,  because  you  are  acting 
honourably.  But  is  there  nothing  else  you  have  not  told 
me  of  ?  " 

"  Of  course  there  is.  Your  letter  came  too  late,  and  all 
the  mischief  was  done.  All  the  whole  business  was  inex- 
tricably entangled  (he  used  four  or  five  participles,  which 
would  not  read  well,  and  so  we  put  it  like  that)  before 
your  letter  arrived.  And  besides,  before  your  letter  came, 
Mewstone  was  there,  and  I  saw  it  all." 
60 


Austin  Elliot 

"  I  am  so  sorry,  by  Gad  !  What  a  nuisance  it  was  you 
didn't  know,"  said  Lord  Charles. 

"  Old  Hilton  said,  on  his  death-bed,  that  Mr.  Cecil  had 
taken  me  there  to  make  Mewstone  jealous." 

'•  Who  said  that,  Austin  ?  "  said  Lord  Charles. 

"  Old  Mr.  Hilton,  on  his  death-bed ! " 

"  Well,  '  de  inortuiSy  &c.  But  he  was  utterly  mistaken, 
my  boy.  In  his  sober  senses  he  never  coupled  such  a  vul- 
gar intrigue  as  that  with  the  name  of  such  a  man  as  Mr. 
Cecil,  much  as  he  might  hate  him.  There  were  never  two 
fools  more  in  love  with  one  another  since  the  world  began. 
Will  you  let  me  burn  your  wound  out,  my  boy  ?  It  will 
hurt,  but  the  wound  will  heal.  I  know  from  fifty  fellows 
that  these  two  fell  in  love  with  one  another  at  first  sight. 
That  marriage  happens  to  be  a  splendid  family  arrange- 
ment, but  it  is  only  a  parcel  of  cackling  idiots  who  say 
that  it  was  made  up  from  family  motives  only.  Let  us  be 
just." 

"  But  why  —  now  I  know  the  truth,  I  still  ask  why  was 
I  to  be  considered  so  far  below  her  ?  "  And  poor  Austin 
repeated  a  coarse  expression  of  the  old  man's,  alluded  to 
before. 

"  Who  said  that  about  you  ?  " 

"  Old  Hilton." 

"  God  forgive  him,  Austin ;  he  was  a  fool.  Austin, 
that  man  lost  every  friend  in  the  world  but  your  father 
through  short-sighted  cunning.  Even  Lord  Liverpool 
never  forgave  him  some  dreadful  business  about  the 
French  funds  in  1806.  You  must  not  think  of  the  words 
of  a  soured,  ill-tempered  man  like  that.  Mr.  Cecil  is  as 
incapable  of  saying  or  thinking  such  a  thing  as  my  own 
mother.  And  as  for  Fanny  Cecil,  she  would  have  married 
a  Welsh  curate  if  she  had  chosen.  But  now,  old  fellow, 
to  be  perfectly  just,  we  must  remember  this,  that  in  the 
world  the  marriage  of  Lord  Mewstone  and  Miss  Cecil  was 
as  well-known  a  fact,  as  that  Graham  opens  the  letters. 
Old  Cecil  never  contemplated  the  possibility  of  your  being 
61 


Austin  Elliot 

ignorant  of  it.  You  are  not  in  the  world  or  of  the  world 
yet.  Neither  am  I,  but  I  sit  and  listen  even  now.  I  hear 
all  these  things  :  you  do  not  as  yet." 

So  did  Lord  Charles  Barty  comfort  his  friend.  His 
friend  had  more  brains  than  he,  but  knew  less  on  some 
points.  When  people  begin  to  swim  on  the  edge  of  that 
pool  which  is  called  society,  they  should  take  care  not  to 
get  out  cf  their  depths  as  did  Austin. 

"  How  glorious  it  is,"  said  he,  "  to  have  your  dear  old 
voice  in  my  ears  again,  to  give  me  comfort.  I  am  a  dif- 
ferent man  again.  Tell  me,  old  Mentor,  who  is  Captain 
Hertford  }  " 

"  Have  you  met  him  there  ?  " 

Austin  told  him  how. 

"  He  is  Mewstone's  henchman.  I  believe  Mewstone 
has  been  fast,  very  fast.  Captain  Hertford  is  cruel,  brutal, 
false,  gluttonous,  and  treacherous." 

"  Then  why  has  Lord  Mewstone  anything  to  do  with 
him  ?  " 

"  Because  such  men  are  useful.  Let  bygones  be  by- 
gones. I  really  know  nothing  more  than  this.  I  heard 
that  character  of  Hertford  from  my  blind  brother  Edward, 
who  is  always  right." 

"  But  does  '  the  world '  know  this  of  Captain  Hertford  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  I  don't  know  the  world  yet ;  but  I 
know  that  much  about  Captain  Hertford." 

"  The  world  seems  to  be  fond  of  easy-going,  Charles." 

"  Let  you  and  I  go  into  it  hand-in-hand  together,  my  boy, 
and  see  what  it  is  like.  And,  Austin,  I  begin  to  see  that 
there  is  another  great  world  down  below  us,  of  which  you 
and  I  know  nothing  —  the  world  of  commerce  and  labour." 

"  You  are  beginning  to  find  that  out,  are  you  ?  "  said 
Austin. 

"  I  think  I  am.  It  is  there ;  and  it  is  beginning  to 
mutter  and  growl  under  our  feet  even  now.  Did  you  ever 
read  Humboldt's  Travels  ?  " 

"  No." 

62 


Austin  Elliot 

"  Nor  I ;  but  I  have  looked  into  them.  He  says,  in  the 
Andes,  that  the  earthquakes  are  preceded  by  the  most  ter- 
rible underground  thunder ;  it  begins  muttering  and  growl- 
ing, and  then  it  swells  up  into  a  horrible  roar.  After  this 
the  earth  gapes,  and  those  fools  who  have  not  moved  their 
property  and  their  persons  are  swallowed  up.  Have  you 
heard  this  underground  thunder  yet?  " 

"  Yes,  but  very  few  else,"  said  Austin. 

"  You  are  mistaken.  Many  have  heard  it,  and  are 
preparing  to  move  their  goods.  All  we  want  is  a  leader, 
to  show  us  what  move  to  make." 

"Is  there  such  a  one  ?  "  said  Austin. 

"  There  is." 

"  And  the  gentleman's  name  ?  "  said  Austin. 

"Robert  Peel." 

"  And  you  have  found  ^/lai  out,  too,"  said  Austin.  "  By 
Jove,  Charles,  I  believe  we  have  only  one  heart  between 
the  pair  of  us." 

"  Hurrah  !  "  cried  Lord  Charles  Barty,  breaking  into  a 
mad  gallop  across  a  common,  and  waving  his  white  hat 
over  his  head.  "  Come  on,  friend  of  my  soul,  and  let  us 
follow  him  through  it  all  —  through  misrepresentation, 
through  obloquy,  down  to  political  death  itself,  which  will 
only  end  in  a  more  glorious  political  resurrection.  An  ad- 
venture, Sir  Knight,  an  adventure.  A  Peel !  a  Peel !  to 
the  rescue  !  Who  is  the  laggard  that  won't  win  his  spurs 
in  such  a  cause  ?     Peel  to  the  rescue.     Hurrah  !  " 

Now  it  so  befel  that  there  were  a  great  many  geese  on 
this  common,  over  which  Lord  Charles  Barty  rode  so 
madly,  crying  out  the  name  of  a  certain  right  honourable 
baronet ;  and  he  had  the  misfortune  to  ride  over  one  of 
these  geese,  and  on  his  return  had  to  pay  five  shillings  to 
a  vociferous  old  woman  who  saw  him  do  it.  But  of  all 
the  geese  on  that  common,  were  there,  do  you  think,  two 
greater  geese  than  Austin  Elliot  and  Lord  Charles  Barty  r 
But  that  is  exactly  the  sort  of  stuff  that  some  young  fellows 
talked  in  '44.  We  are  all  much  wiser  now,  are  we  not  ? 
63 


Austin  Elliot 


Chapter  X 

Their  gallop  brought  them  across  the  common  and  to 
the  house  where  Eleanor  was  staying  with  Aunt  Maria. 
Here  Austin's  friend  left  him,  and  went  to  an  inn,  and  put 
up  his  horse  to  wait  for  him  ;  and  Austin  rang  at  the  bell. 

The  house  was  a  great  red-brick  house,  with  narrow 
windows,  standing  a  long  way  back,  with  a  wall  and  two 
carriage-gates  beside  the  road.  There  were  also  two  ce- 
dars, a  big  bell  in  a  little  pent-house  just  inside  the  gate, 
and  a  big  dog,  who  barked  when  you  rang  it.  That  house 
will  be  taken  by  a  doctor,  and  made  a  private  madhouse 
of  some  day,  as  the  march  of  intellect  goes  on,  and  Lon- 
don expands.  If  it  were  ten  miles  nearer  town,  it  would 
be  snapped  up  at  once  for  that  purpose.  If  you  ask, 
"  Why  for  a  madhouse,  not  for  a  school  ?  "  the  answer  is, 
that  the  grounds  are  too  large  for  a  schoolmaster,  and  un- 
til they  began  to  build  it  in,  and  take  the  land  off  his  hands, 
it  wouldn't  pay  him.  The  house  before  which  Austin  stood 
will  become  either  a  madhouse  or  an  institution  of  some 
sort  or  another. 

A  great  deal  might  be  said  about  these  old  suburban 
houses.  The  author  would  like  nothing  better  than  to 
dwell  on  their  peculiarities,  but  this  is  not  the  place  for  do- 
ing so.  He  begs  the  reader's  patience  for  only  a  very  few 
w^ords  about  them.  They  were  built,  most  of  them,  in 
the  beginning  of  last  century,  and  have  been  degraded 
and  degraded  from  one  purpose  to  another,  each  one  low- 
er than  the  last,  until  they  are  pulled  down  because  they 
interfere  with  a  new  terrace  or  square.  The  general  fate 
which  awaits  all  of  them  is  degradation  and  death,  but 
sometimes  they  are  preserved  even  in  the  midst  of  the 
great  flood  of  bricks,  and  then  they  fetch  high  rents. 

Did  any  reasonable  man  ever  go  to  walk  through  the 
western  part  of  Chelsea  on  to  Walham  Green  and  Fulham, 
64 


Austin  Elliot 

if  he  could  manage  to  walk  anywhere  else  ?  Most  likely 
not.  And  yet  there  are  some  houses  standing  about 
there  which  will  make  a  man  think  of  if  he  choose  to 
think.  Take  one  of  those  suburban  houses,  built  about 
1700,  and  think  about  it,  and  people  it  over  again  with 
three  generations.  Take  a  long,  low,  back-lying  house  in 
the  King's  Road,  Chelsea,  in  front  of  which  they  have 
built  shops.  That  was  once  a  quiet  gentleman's  house, 
with  elm-trees  round  it,  where  several  generations  of 
children  tumbled  downstairs,  and  fell  out  of  window,  and 
lost  their  tops  and  balls  in  the  water-butt,  and  laughed 
and  cried  and  quarrelled  and  made  it  up,  until  they  grew 
to  handsome  young  men  and  women.  How  many  pairs 
of  happy  lovers  went  a-courting  in  that  summer-house  at 
the  end  of  the  garden ;  before  Mr.  Mullins  took  it  and 
made  a  madhouse  of  it,  and  the  woman  who  thought  she 
was  queen  took  possession  of  the  summer-house,  and 
hunted  us  boys  out  of  it  when  we  dared  go  in  ;  and  before 
they  put  Miss  H — ,  a  strong,  red-faced  woman,  with  a  big 
throat  and  thick  lips,  into  the  old  nursery,  where  she 
screamed  and  yelled  and  tore  night  and  day  for  above  a 
year,  till  it  pleased  God  to  put  an  end  to  her  misery. 

And  when  the  madhouse  was  removed  to  Putney,  Wa- 
terer  took  the  house  and  grounds,  and  exhibited  his  rhodo- 
dendrons and  azaleas  there.  And  all  society  came  down 
to  look  at  them,  and  the  line  of  carriages  extended  far  up 
and  down  the  King's  Road.  Then  the  dreary  old  garden, 
in  which  the  madwoman  used  to  walk  so  wearily  up  and 
down,  was  filled  with  a  blaze  of  flowering  American  plants. 
And  on  the  very  same  ground  where  the  author,  a  fright- 
ened boy,  looking  over  the  palings,  has  seen  poor  Miss 
H — ,  in  her  strait  -  waistcoat,  cast  herself  screammg 
down  among  the  cabbage-plants,  and  bite  the  earth  with 
her  teeth  ;  on  that  very  same  ground  all  the  dandies  and 
beauties  of  London  were  walking  and  talking.  The  last  I 
know  of  that  piece  of  ground  is,  that  the  man  who  lets 
flys  had  laid  it  down  in  oats.  Sic  transit,  &c.  That  is 
65 


Austin  Elliot 

the  history  of  one  suburban  house,  carefully  told,  and 
there  are  very  many  with  far  stranger  histories  than  that. 

The  study  of  these  old  red-brick  suburban  houses  has 
given  the  author  so  much  pleasure  in  his  time  that  he  has 
tried  to  give  the  reader  some  interest  in  them,  and  make 
him  partake  of  the  same  pleasure.  This  is  the  only  time 
he  means  to  offend  in  this  way  in  this  story,  and  so  he 
casts  himself  on  his  reader's  mercy. 

Austin,  who  had  dismounted,  rang  the  bell  again,  and 
again  the  big  dog  barked ;  this  time,  also,  a  door  was 
opened,  and  Austin  heard  a  man,  apparently  a  footman, 
say,  "  Four  ounces  is  four,  and  two  quarters  is  a  tizzy,  and 
a  bob  lost  tossing  makes  two  half-bulls  and  a  bender, 
don't  it,  you  aggravating  minx  ?  "  And  then,  instead  of 
coming  to  Austin's  assistance,  Austin  heard  him  shut  the 
door  again. 

So  he  had  to  ring  once  more.  This  time  he  heard  the 
door  opened  again,  and  footsteps  approaching.  Immedi- 
ately the  wicket  in  the  carriage-gate  was  thrown  back,  and 
in  the  aperture  stood  a  little  lean  old  footman,  with  a  cross 
face  and  very  grey  hair,  who  cried  out,  "  Now  then,  young 
fellow  ! " 

"Now  then,  young  fellow,"  said  Austin,  "  how  about 
the  two  half-bulls  and  the  bender  ?  " 

The  old  man  laughed  :  —  "  It's  them  gals,  Mr.  Austin, 
got  a  shilling  of  mine  among  un  somewhere,  and  wants  to 
bounce  me  out  of  it.  Told  me  you  was  the  baker's  boy 
too.  Come  in  afore  she  sees  you,  else  she'll  not  be  at 
home.  She  is  gallivanting  in  the  paddock  with  Captain 
Hertford." 

"  The  deuce !  "  thought  Austin  ;  "  who  is  Captain  Hert- 
ford ?  "  he  said. 

"  The  gentleman  as  you  met  in  Wales  the  week  afore 
last,  when  you  fell  in  love  with  Miss  Cecil ;  and  as  you 
travelled  with  and  told  all  about  it ;  and  as  come  and  told 
we  all  about  it.  That's  about  who  Captain  Hertford  is, 
Master  Austin." 

66 


Austin  Elliot 

"  But  what  is  he  doing  here  ?  "  asked  Austin,  only  half 
aloud. 

"  Making  love  to  the  old  woman,"  said  the  old  man, 
speaking  very  loud  and  plain. 

"  Confound  you,  James,  don't  be  a  ridiculous  fellow," 
said  Austin,  laughing.     "  Making  love  to  Aunt  Maria  ?  " 

"  That's  about  the  size  on  it,"  said  James.  "  Now  come 
quick  into  the  stable-yard  afore  she  sees  you.  You 
wouldn't  see  much  of  Miss  Eleanor  if  she  caught  sight  on 
you." 

"  How  is  Aunt  Maria  ?  "  said  Austin,  in  the  stable-yard, 
after  a  groom  had  gone  off  with  his  horse. 

"  Owdacious,"  said  James.    "  Drat  her,  she  always  were . 
owdacious,  worn't  she.'*"   he  continued,  scratching  his 
head.    When  he  saw  Austin  frown  and  shake  his  head : 
**  I  mean  she  always  were  a  owdacious  fine  woman  of 
her  age." 

"  Where  did  you  say  she  was  ?  "  said  Austin. 

"  Where  is  she  ?  "  said  James,  getting  desperate  and 
rebellious.  "Why,  she's  upstairs,  and  she's  downstairs, 
and  she's  in  my  lady's  chamber ;  all  three  at  once  some- 
times. She  always  were  a  deuce  of  a  woman  to  come  round 
a  corner  on  you  sharp ;  but  since  the  will  was  read,  she 
shall  come  round  a  corner  again  any  woman  in  England 
for  a  new  hat,  or  a  tripe  supper  for  eight.  The  gals  is 
losing  flesh  over  her.  They  was  giggling  upstairs  the  day 
before  yesterday,  and  I  see  her  come  slipping  out  of  the 
drawing-room  like  a  old  pussy-cat,  and  so  I  hits  myself 
down  the  back-stairs  with  a  tray-full  of  glasses,  and  brings 
her  i/ta^  way,  and  now  the  ungrateful  minxes  wants  to  do 
me  out  of  a  shilling." 

"  I  hope  you  caught  it,  sir  ?  "  said  Austin. 

"  Catch  it  ?  There,  let's  talk  about  something  else. 
Master  Austin.  However,  I  can  always  stop  her  when  I 
have  had  enough.     Come  on." 

"  I  hope  you  didn't  answer  her." 

"  I  only  told  her  not  to  regard  my  feelings,  for  that  I 
67 


Austin  Elliot 

was  used  to  the  ways  of  old  people,  and  that  when  people 
came  to  her  time  of  life,  they  naturally  got  brittle  in  the 
temper,  the  same  as  they  lost  their  teeth." 

"  How  could  you  say  such  a  thing,  James  ?  You  know 
if  you  go  on  like  that  she  will  be  obliged  to  ask  Miss 
Eleanor  to  discharge  you.  And  I  warn  you  that,  deeply 
attached  as  I  and  she  are  to  you,  I  could  not  say  a  word 
in  your  favour." 

*'  She'll  never  ask  Miss  Eleanor  to  do  that.  I  know  too 
much."  And  so  saying,  he  opened  the  drawing-room 
door,  and  announced 

"  Master  Austin." 

Eleanor  rose  up  and  came  towards  him ;  she  held  out 
her  hands  towards  him,  but  that  was  not  enough;  she 
took  both  his  hands  in  hers,  but  that  was  not  enough  either ; 
so  the  poor  innocent,  silly  little  body  burst  out  a-crying 
so  piteously  that  Austin  took  her  in  his  arms  and  kissed 
her. 

"  I  am  so  miserable,  dear  brother,"  she  said.  "  How 
kind  of  you  to  come  to  me." 

"  And  I,  dear  sister,  am  so  unhappy  too,"  said  Austin, 
who,  ten  minutes  before,  had  been  galloping  and  shout- 
ing with  Lord  Charles  Barty  across  the  common.  He  did 
not  mean  to  be  hypocritical  or  untrue.  He  did  really  think 
he  was  unhappy,  and  so  he  was. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  dear  Austin  ? "  she  said.  "  I 
ask  for  a  very  selfish  reason.  If  you  will  tell  me  your 
sorrows,  I  shall  certainly  forget  mine.  So  you  have  been 
staying  at  the  Cecils  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"And  what  did  you  think  of Ah,  Austin,  you 

wrote  me  no  merry  letters  from  ther-e.  You  would  not 
confide  in  me  about  that.  I  expected  a  long  letter,  filled, 
as  usual,  with  wild  admiration  for  the  last  ineligible  young 
lady  ;  but  when  none  came,  I,  knowing  Fanny  Cecil,  knew 
what  had  happened  at  once." 

"  What  do  you  mean  }  " 

68 


Austin  Elliot 

"  Knew  that  you  had  fallen  in  love  for  the  first  time  in 
your  life." 

"  By  Jove,  Eleanor,  you  are  right.  How  you  guessed 
that  I  cannot  tell." 

If  these  two  —  this  handsome,  noble  young  lad,  and 
this  quiet,  dark-haired  girl  —  had  at  that  moment  been  in 
the  Palace  of  Truth,  Eleanor  would  have  answered  : 

'•  Because  I  have  loved  you  and  none  other  ever  since  I 
could  love  any  one,  and  because  I  shall  never  love  any 
other  man  as  I  do  you  to  the  day  of  my  death." 

But  they  were  in  an  old  red-brick  house  on  a  common 
in  Surrey,  and  Aunt  Maria  was  plainly  to  be  seen  in  the 
paddock  walking  with  Captain  Hertford.  They  were  in  a 
palace  which  was  not  of  truth,  and  so  she  only  said  : 

*'  No  one  could  doubt  it  who  knew  Fanny  Cecil.  I 
could  have  told  you  that  she  was  to  marry  Lord  Mew- 
stone.  I  would  gladly  have  saved  you  this,  brother,  but  I 
never  dreamt  that  you  were  to  be  thrown  against  her  in 
that  way.  When  I  heard  you  were  there  I  dreaded  that 
it  would  happen.     Why  did  not  Charles  Barty  warn  you  }  " 

"  He  did  ;  but  his  warning  came  too  late." 

*'  Ah  !  he  was  at  Turin.  Austin,"  she  said,  very  quietly, 
"  I  want  to  speak  to  you." 

Austin  looked  up  at  her.  Her  hands  were  quietly 
folded  before  her,  her  eyes  were  more  brilliant  and  prom- 
inent than  usual,  and  she  was  very  pale.  Her  mouth  was 
tightly  set,  and  there  was  not  a  twitch  in  the  muscles  of 
it.  The  upper  lip  and  the  chin,  both  too  short  at  ordinary 
times,  seemed  shorter  than  ever  now.  Austin  began  to 
see  what  she  would  be  like  when  she  was  an  old  woman. 

Eleanor  loved  Austin  so  deeply,  as  never  man  was  loved 
before,  she  thought.  Better  than  herself  by  far ;  for  by  the 
very  slightest  management  she  might  marry  him,  advise 
him,  feed  his  ambition,  give  him  wealth  and  ambition,  tri- 
umph with  him  in  success,  console  him  in  disappointment, 
get  him  taught  the  ways  of  the  world,  bring  him  into  soci- 
ety by  her  wealth  —  nay,  more  than  all,  teach  him  to  worship 
69 


Austin  Elliot 

at  the  same  altar  with  her,  to  love  the  same  God,  to  trust 
to  the  same  hope  of  salvation  —  she  would  do  none  of  these 
things ;  she  was  going  to  give  him  his  dismissal  for  ever  — 
with  a  slight  reservation. 

And  why  ?  Because  Austin  could  never  love  her.  Be- 
cause if  he  did  not  love  her  he  would  merely  marry  her  for 
her  money.  And  then  the  consciousness  that  he  was  un- 
true to  himself  would  prey  on  him,  and  render  him  miser- 
able, lower  his  moral  tone,  and  make  him  feel  that  his 
whole  career  was  a  false  one. 

That  is  the  way  she  reasoned  —  that  was  the  way  she 
accounted  for  her  conduct.  She  was  one  of  the  best  and 
noblest  little  women  that  ever  lived  (as  the  reader  will  con- 
fess when  he  has  read  the  book  to  the  end)  ;  she  reasoned 
in  this  way  —  it  was  satisfactory  reasoning  enough  ;  but, 
nevertheless,  her  own  soul  said  something  else,  and  would 
make  itself  heard,  it  said :  —  "  He  shall  love  me,  and  woo 
me,  before  he  win  me  !  "     But  she  said  — 

"  Austin,  do  you  remember  my  father's  death-bed  ?  " 

He  said,  "  Yes !  "  He  could  hardly  believe  that  she 
could  anticipate  the  very  matter  on  which  he  was  ready  to 
speak.    But  she  did  so. 

"  I  can  speak  to  you  quite  openly,  now  your  heart  is  so 
deeply  engaged.  You  must  forget  everything  that  passed, 
everything  he  said,  every  hint  he  gave,  or  we  must  part 
here,  once  and  for  all." 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Austin.  "  Things  might  have  been 
which  can  never  be  now.  My  heart  is  gone ;  I  came  to 
tell  you  so.  I  came  to  tell  you  that  I  would  be  your 
brother,  your  servant;  would  go  through  the  world  at 
your  side  ;  that  your  husband  should  be  the  friend  of  my 
heart ;  but  that  your  wealth  alone  would  render  it  impos- 
sible for  me  to  be  more.  Therefore,  having  said  this  to 
one  another,  we  can  now  go  through  the  world  hand  in 
hand,  on  just  the  same  terms  as  we  have  hitherto  done." 

"  We  will,  Austin.  I  will  be  aunt  Eleanor  to  your  chil- 
dren, and  sister  Eleanor  to  you ;  but  don't  leave  me  all 
70 


Austin  Elliot 

alone.  You  are  the  only  friend  I  have.  I  dare  talk  to 
you  now,  brother,  you  see." 

So  they  talked  confidentially,  till  there  was  an  alarm  of 
Aunt  Maria,  and  then  Austin  went  away;  this  highly 
platonic  arrangement  being  brought  to  a  satisfactory  ter- 
mination. 

A  very  satisfactory  one,  indeed.  Eleanor,  two  minutes 
afterwards,  had  locked  herself  into  her  bed-room,  and 
thrown  herself  on  her  bed,  in  a  wild  passion  of  tears,  wish- 
ing that  she  never  had  been  born ;  wishing  that  Austin 
had  never  seen  Miss  Cecil ;  wishing  that  she  might  die  in 
her  grief ;  doing  everything,  in  short,  but  blaming  Austin. 
And  there  she  lay,  till  the  tempest  of  her  grief  began  to  get 
less  strong,  and  its  gusts  less  frequent  and  violent,  and  at 
last  raised  her  weary-worn  little  face  up,  and  prepared  to 
go  downstairs,  and  be  furiously  scolded  by  her  cruel  old 
aunt.  Yes,  this  half  of  the  arrangement  was  very  satis- 
factory ;  now  for  the  other. 

When  Austin  got  back  to  Lord  Charles  Barty,  he  looked 
as  black  as  thunder.  He  quarrelled  with  his  horse,  he 
quarrelled  with  his  dog,  and  was  very  much  inclined  to 
quarrel  with  Lord  Charles  ;  but  that  was  not  an  easy  mat- 
ter at  any  time,  or  by  any  person.  So  he  contented  himself 
with  sulking  all  the  way  home,  and  giving  short  answers. 
Lord  Charles  was  surprised  at  this.  He  had  never  seen 
Austin  cross  so  long  before.  He  did  what  every  good 
fellow  ought  to  do,  when  his  friend  is  angry :  he  appeared 
concerned  and  anxious,  but  spoke  of  indifferent  matters, 
leaving  Austin  to  open  his  grief  to  him. 

When  they  came  to  Mortlake,  Austin  said,  "  Let  us  ride 
on  to  London,  Charles." 

"  Yes,  suppose  we  do.  I  should  like  it.  Will  you  take 
Robin  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  so.     You  can  trust  him  anywhere." 

"Yes,  he  is  a  wise  fellow,  that  Robin,"  said  Lord 
Charles.  " '  Way  forrid,  Min ! '  that's  what  the  Scotch 
shepherds  say  to  their  dog.     See,  he  is  gone  away  like 

71 


Austin  Elliot 

a  thunderbolt  after  imaginary  sheep.  He  is  a  fine  feU 
low." 

"  I  say,  Charles." 

"  Ay,  ay ! " 

"  I  have  made  such  a  cursed  fool  of  myself." 

So  the  second  half  of  the  grand  platonic  arrangement 
seemed  far  from  satisfactory  also. 


Chapter  XI 

Late  as  it  was,  Austin  and  his  friend  posted  off  to  join 
their  reading  party  at  Bangor,  and  with  them  went  the 
dog  Robin,  of  course. 

There  were  nine  of  them  in  that  reading  party,  and  they 
spent  that  summer  —  one  of  those  happy  golden  periods 
which  surely  comes  at  least  once  in  a  man's  life,  unless  he 
be  an  exceptionally  unfortunate  one.  Very  unlucky  must 
the  man  be  who  has  no  golden  age  to  look  back  at  fondly 
in  after  years.  Dull  must  be  the  life  of  a  child  who  can- 
not say,  "  Once,  in  spring-time,  I  went  into  a  meadow, 
and  gathered  cowslips." 

Lucky,  again  —  fortunate  beyond  most  men  —  must 
these  nine  have  been,  if  any  other  period  ever  came,  in 
any  of  their  lives,  sufficiently  happy  to  make  them  forget 
this  summer  of  theirs  at  Bangor,  in  1844 ;  a  time  of  youth, 
health,  hope,  ambition,  and  friendship.  Snowdon  was  be- 
hind them,  the  sea  before,  Anglesey  sleeping  in  the  sun- 
shine, the  Ormshead  floating  like  a  blue  mist  in  the  hori- 
zon, and  Penmaenmawr  towering  black  and  awful  above 
the  little  white  farm  in  the  wood  at  Aber.  Golden  sands, 
blue  sea,  and  slow-sailing  summer-clouds  aloft. 

Were  they  idle  ?    Oh,  dear,  yes.     Seven  of  them,  God 

bless   them,  were  horribly  idle.      The    good    Professor 

scolded,  predicted  that  they  would  all  be  either  "  gulfed  " 

or  "  ploughed  ;  "  said  he  sincerely  hoped  that  they  would 

73 


Austin  Elliot 

be  ;  said  that  the  foundations  of  justice  would  be  sapped 
at  the  root  if  they  weren't :  but  it  was  no  use ;  they  all 
loved  him  too  well  to  mind  him.  They  were  very  good 
for  a  few  days  after  one  of  these  terrible  jobations  ;  but 
then  two  of  them  would  be  missing  at  their  hour,  the  Pro- 
fessor would  go  to  their  lodgings,  and  find  from  their 
landlady,  that  some  idle  villain  of  a  university  man,  who 
was  not  going  to  be  in  the  October  term,  had  arrived 
promiscuously,  in  the  town,  and  had  induced  them  to  go 
off  to  Llyn  Ogwen,  or  some  of  those  places,  the  names  of 
which  the  good  Professor  will  hate  to  his  dying  day. 

Hayton  and  Dayton  went  and  lodged  at  Garth,  because 
it  was  out  of  the  way,  inconvenient,  and  dirty,  and  a  mile 
from  the  scene  of  tuition.  Hayton,  who  was  fat,  fished 
for  four  months  from  the  end  of  the  pier,  and  caught 
nothing,  but  smoked  8  lb.  9  oz.  of  tobacco.  He  also,  dur- 
ing this  time,  made  love  to  Maria  Williams,  the  pilot's 
daughter,  and  proposed  to  her  on  Michaelmas-day,  after 
the  goose  dinner,  on  which  occasion  she  refused  him  in 
favour  of  Owen  Owens,  a  young  ship-carpenter.  Dayton, 
meanwhile,  bought  the  yacht  Arhydanos,  of  i  cwt.  regis- 
ter ;  length  between  perpendiculars,  6  feet  4  inches  ; 
extreme  breadth,  18  inches ;  depth  of  hold,  2  feet  6  inch- 
es; and  essayed  to  drown  himself  therein;  and  did  not 
succeed  merely  because,  whenever  he  put  forth  into  the 
deep,  three  or  four  small  fishing-boats  used  to  follow  him, 
and  when  he  was  capsized  —  which  happened  every  time 
but  one  when  he  went  out  —  used  to  pick  him  up,  and 
fight  for  him,  at  the  rate  of  half  a  crown  a-head  per  man, 
and  a  shilling  for  boys ;  being  at  the  rate  of  thirty  shil- 
lings a  voyage. 

Horton  and  Morton  did  not  live  in  Bangor,  but  stayed 
at  Aber,  five  miles  off,  because  it  was  out  of  the  way  and 
more  expensive ;  and  they  got  so  attached  to  the  good 
people  there,  and  the  good  people  there  so  attached  to 
them,  that  they  refused  to  move  into  the  town,  though  the 
Professor  fulminated  about  it.    They  were  the  most  tire- 

73 


Austin  Elliot 

some  fellows  of  all;  for,  not  content  with  idling  about, 
shooting  seagulls  and  stints  themselves,  they  would  think 
nothing  of  getting  half  the  party  to  dine  with  them,  and, 
after  dinner,  of  seducing  the  whole  lot  of  them  up  the  glen 
by  the  waterfall,  and  over  the  summit  of  Carnedd  Llewel- 
lyn to  Capel  Curig,  a  trifling  distance  of  fifteen  miles  or 
so,  and  sending  them  home  to  Bangor,  after  a  couple  of 
days,  by  Nant  Frangon. 

The  other  seven  lived  in  Bangor,  and  were  not  so  in- 
tolerably idle  as  these  two.  Only  two  of  the  whole  party 
read  really  steadily  and  well,  and  those  two  were  Austin 
Elliot  and  Lord  Charles  Barty. 

Was  Austin  happy  ?  I  am  afraid  so ;  although  he  would 
have  been  very  angry  if  any  one  had  accused  him  of  it. 
He  was  by  way  of  being  miserable.  He  thought  he  was, 
but  he  was  quite  mistaken.  In  the  first  place,  he  was 
getting  over  the  disappointment  about  Miss  Cecil  ;  and  in 
the  next,  there  is  pretty  nearly  as  much  pleasure  as  pain  in 
an  affair  of  that  sort.  For  is  that  strange  wild  yearning 
jealousy,  pain  }  Catch  me  a  man,  a  penniless,  friendless 
man,  with  all  his  hopes  broken,  and  all  his  friends  gone, 
and  ask  hhn.  Ask  him  what  he  would  give  to  feel  his 
bitterest  disappointment  of  this  kind  over  again. 

No,  he  was  not  unhappy.  A  nine  days'  affair  of  the 
kind  does  not,  in  this  barbarous  island,  hit  so  very  hard. 
The  more  refined  French  smother  themselves  with  char- 
coal; or,  as  two  of  them  did  a  few  years  ago,  take  a 
warm  bath,  put  on  a  clean  shirt,  and  blow  their  brains  out 
simultaneously,  leaving  behind  them  what  we  barbarians 
would  call  a  horribly  blasphemous  paper.  But  Austin's 
class  was  nearly  safe,  and  so  he  read  hard,  and  made  it 
so. 

This  visit  of  his  to  Tyn-y-Rhaiadr  was  a  very  important 
one ;  for  he  not  only  fell  in  love  with  Miss  Cecil,  in  itself 
an  important  affair,  but  he  also  made  the  acquaintance  of 
Captain  Hertford ;  and,  moreover,  had  the  dog  Robin  given 
to  him  as  a  present. 

74 


Austin  Elliot 

They  had  been  at  Bangor  about  a  month,  when  one  day 
Austin  went  out  to  Aber,  in  the  afternoon,  with  Horton 
and  Morton,  for  he  was  rather  fagged  with  work,  and  left 
Lord  Charles  at  home  at  Bangor  over  his  Pindar.  They 
went  a-fishing  for  the  smallest  sample  of  trout  I  know  of 
on  the  face  of  the  whole  globe,  that  evening,  and  caught  a 
few  of  them  ;  and  in  the  evening  stood  under  the  highest 
waterfall  in  Wales,  and  saw  the  lace-like  threads  of  water 
streaming  over  the  black  rocks  from  a  height  of  one  hun- 
dred and  eighty  feet,  and  after  that  turned  merrily  home- 
wards. 

Between  the  waterfall  and  the  sea  at  Aber  is  one  of  the 
most  extraordinary  shoreless  chasms  I  have  ever  seen. 
The  stream  runs  through  it,  but,  as  we  used  to  believe,  no 
man  has  ever  been  through  it  since  Creation.  It  is  half  a 
mile  long,  a  succession  of  shoreless  lyns  and  slippery  rocks. 
And  Austin,  comtng  to  the  upper  end  of  it,  proposed  to 
swim  through.  He  never  did,  though  some  one  else  has 
actually  done  so  since ;  for  as  he  was  beginning  to  undress 
himself,  with  that  eagerness  and  haste  with  which  young 
British  and  Irish  men  of  three-and-twenty  hail  the  oppor- 
tunity of  drowning  themselves,  or  breaking  their  necks, 
Robin  bounded  joyously  forward,  and  some  one  appeared 
coming  rapidly  towards  them.  They  saw,  in  a  few  min- 
utes, that  it  was  Lord  Charles  Barty. 

"  Austin,"  he  said,  breathlessly,  "  the  Lords  have  re- 
versed the  sentence  of  the  lower  courts,  and  acquitted  O'- 
Connell.  The  only  one  of  the  four  who  went  for  him  was 
Brougham." 

"  I  told  you  so,"  said  Austin.  "  What  a  noble  way  of 
smothering  him.  And  old  Brougham  against  him,  eh  ? 
Lord  !  what  a  world  it  is  ;  —  old  Brougham,  eh  ?  Conceive 
the  slyness  of  the  man,  will  you  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  impute  low  motives,"  said  Lord  Charles ; 
"  it  is  the  habit  of  a  young  and  unformed  mind. " 

"  Go  to  Bath,"  said  Austin.  "  I  say,  I  am  going  to 
swim  through  this  chasm." 

75 


Austin  Elliot 

"  No,  don't  be  an  ass,"  said  the  other.  "  Come  and 
walk  with  me ;  I  have  something  to  tell  you." 

"  So  you  didn't  come  all  this  way  to  tell  me  about  Dan, 
then  ?  "  said  Austin. 

"  No,"  said  he.  "  I  got  tired  of  my  work,  and  I  thought 
of  you  and  the  other  fellows  having  a  jolly  evening  here, 
and  I  came  out  in  a  car.  Besides,  I  have  seen  some  one 
since  you  left." 

"  Who  ?  " 

"  Why,  Lord  and  Lady  Mewstone.  They  have  come 
from  Chester,  and  are  going  on  to  Tyn-y-Rhaiadr  to-mor- 
row morning.  He  has  called  at  your  lodgings,  and  he  is 
going  to  call  again ;  and  —  and  I  thought  I  would  come 
out  and  tell  you,  old  fellow ;  that  is  all." 

"  By  Jove,  you  are  a  good  fellow,"  said  Austin  ;  "  what 
the  deuce  should  I  do  without  you  ?  What  had  I  better 
do  ?  " 

"  Let  us  stay  here.  You  don't  know  what  Hertford 
may  have  said,  or  what  s/te  has  heard.  As  for  /i/m,  his 
nose  is  far  too  high  in  the  air  for  him  to  suppose  that  you 
had  ever  thought  of  her  otherwise  than  as  a  goddess. 
Hertford  would  never  have  dared  to  let  him  hear  anything. 
If  he  had,  he  would  not  be  so  affectionate." 

"  But  do  you  think  that  she  ever  guessed  ?  " 

"  Lord  knows  !  I  don't  understand  women.  Hertford 
knows  that  you  were  deeply  taken  with  her.  How  do  you 
or  I  know  whether  he  hasn't  used  that  knowledge  to  keep 
his  position  with  her.^  How  do  you  know,  that  in  a 
gentle  way,  he  has  not  let  her  know  that  he  knows  it,  and 
so  avoid  the  con^-e  which  he  would  most  certainly  get,  the 
moment  she  came  into  power.?  She  is  afraid  of  Mew- 
stone —  everybody  is  afraid  of  him.  I  wouldn't  go  back  to 
Bangor  to-night.  Stay  here  till  they  are  clear  off ;  it  won't 
do  you  any  good  to  see  her  again  ;  and  if  she  sees  you,  and 
if  Hertford  has  been  saying  anything  (may  the  deuce  con- 
found him ! )  she  might  look  confused,  or  something.  So 
let's  stay  here  at  Lewis's  and  have  a  rubber," 
76 


Austin  Elliot 

And  so  they  stayed  and  had  a  rubber,  and  poor  Austin 
played  very  bad,  trumped  his  partner's  (of  course,  Lord 
Charles',  for  people  generally  pay  dearly  for  actions  of 
good  nature  in  small  things)  knave,  led  out  strong  suits  of 
trumps  without  any  suit  to  follow,  '  bottled '  them  when 
his  partner  led  them  first  time  round,  drew  two  trumps  for 
one  —  did,  in  fact,  everything  but  revoke,  from  which  he 
was  kept  by  a  mere  brute  instinct.  Instead  of  thinking  of 
his  cards,  he  was  thinking  of  Lady  Mewstone,  about  whom 
he  had  as  much  business  to  think  as  of  Noah's  eldest 
daughter,  about  whose  existence  we  have  no  information. 
But  he  had  a  patient,  affectionate  partner,  who  only 
laughed  louder  at  each  blunder.  Lord  Charles  would  do 
more  for  him  than  lose  three-and-twenty  shillings.  Aus- 
tin paid  him  for  all  his  affectionate  forethought  one  day. 
We  shall  see  how. 

The  next  morning,  Lord  and  Lady  Mewstone  had  dis- 
appeared in  a  cloud  of  dust  towards  Caernarvon.  And 
Austin  and  his  friend  walked  into  Bangor,  in  time  to  take 
their  hour  with  the  good  Professor. 

The  next  night  but  one,  Austin  sat  up  very  late  over 
some  work.  He  had  hardly  been  in  bed  more  than  three 
hours,  when  he  was  awoke  by  being  shaken,  and,  turning 
over,  saw  Lord  Charles  standing  over  him. 

"  Let  me  sleep,"  he  said.  "  I  am  so  tired.  I  have 
hardly  got  to  bed." 

"  Get  up,  Austin,"  said  the  other.  "  We  have  been 
down  to  bathe.  There  is  a  screw  steamer  coming  up  the 
Straits.     I  am  nearly  sure  it  is  the  Pelican." 

Austin  was  out  of  bed  in  a  moment,  and  dressing 
quickly,  ran  down  to  the  point.  It  was  the  dear  old  Peli- 
can, lying  about  two  hundred  yards  out  from  the  point, 
with  a  little  steam  coming  from  her  steam-pipe,  every  now 
and  then  giving  a  throb  or  two  with  her  propeller,  just 
enough  to  keep  her  beautiful  sharp  bows  stationary  against 
the  green  sea- water,  for  the  tide  was  setting  strongly  down 
the  Straits  towards  the  bridge. 

77 


Austin  Elliot 

They  have  never  improved  on  the  model  of  the  Pelican 
any  more  than  they  have  on  the  model  of  the  Great  Brit- 
ain. The  lines  of  the  Pelican,  however,  were  more  like 
those  of  the  Himalaya  than  those  of  the  Great  Britain.  If 
you  put  your  two  hands  together  before  your  face,  expand 
them  till  they  form  a  right  angle  with  one  another,  and 
then  bring  them  together  until  they  form  half  a  right 
angle,  your  two  hands  will  have  nearly  represented  the 
sides  of  the  Pelican  from  bow  to  stern. 

The  Professor,  and  Horton,  and  Morton,  were  all  there 
after  their  bathe,  and,  as  Lord  Charles  and  Austin  came 
up,  were  admiring  the  beauty  of  the  vessel.  And,  after  a 
moment,  Austin  said  — 

"  It  is  the  Pelican,  and  there  is  my  governor.  Let's  all 
come  on  board." 

There  never  was  such  a  reasonable  proposition.  They 
all  bundled  into  a  boat  together  at  once.  The  Professor, 
when  they  were  seated,  reminded  Horton  that  his  hour 
came  before  breakfast,  and  that  therefore  they  must  not 
be  more  than  ten  minutes.  Horton,  finding  himself  on 
the  high  seas,  grew  insolent  and  mutinous,  and  broached 
the  extraordinary  theory,  that  the  powers  and  jurisdiction 
of  a  coach  or  tutor,  did  not  extend  beyond  low  water-mark. 
The  Professor  fired  up  at  this,  and  challenged  him  to  pro- 
duce his  authority,  and  they  were  in  full  wrangle,  and 
both  beginning  to  get  angry,  when  the  boat  swung  to 
under  the  yacht's  side,  and  they  all  had  to  tumble  up  on 
deck.  It  now  appeared  that  the  dog,  Robin,  had  stowed 
himself  away  under  a  thwart,  and,  having  discovered  him- 
self, was  walking  about  in  a  dangerous  way  over  the  top 
of  everything,  proposing  to  do  frightful  things  with  him- 
self, unless  taken  on  board.  When  he  was  hoisted  on 
deck,  during  which  process  he  was  as  good  as  gold,  he 
sent  Aunt  Maria's  Pomeranian,  head  over  heels,  down  the 
engine-room  ladder. 

At  the  gangway  they  were  met  by  a  handsome  old  gen- 
tleman —  a  genial,  good-tempered-looking  old  gentleman 
78 


I 


Austin  Elliot 

—  whose  eyes  brightened  up  when  they  met  Austin's, 
and  there,  somehow,  they  were  all  looking  another  way 
for  a  moment,  as  gentlemen  will  on  certain  occasions. 
But  only  for  one  moment ;  in  the  next  Austin  was  intro- 
ducing them  to  his  father,  with  an  air  of  triumph  in  his 
handsome  face,  as  if  he  was  saying,  "  Come  now,  which  of 
you  has  got  such  a  governor  as  I  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Elliot,"  said  the  Professor,  "  one  of  my  pupils  has 
mutinied  in  the  boat,  and  has  insulted  me.  He  says  that 
my  authority  does  not  extend  beyond  low  water-mark." 

"  He  is  perfectly  right,  my  dear  sir,"  said  Mr.  Elliot. 
"  I  know,  in  the  way  of  business,  a  little  of  that  sort  of 
thing,  and  you  haven't  a  leg  to  stand  on.  If  it  were  not 
so,  your  authority  is  merged  into  mine  on  my  own  deck. 
Ask  Phillimore  —  ask  any  one.  Gentlemen,  I  request 
that  you  will  immediately  come  aft.  Lord  Charles  Barty, 
a  word  with  you." 

He  spoke  to  him  for  a  moment,  and  then  Lord  Charles 
ran  to  the  engine-room  ladder,  and  roared  out  —  "Go 
ahead  full  speed,"  and  then  ran  to  the  side  and  called  out 

—  "  Cast  off  the  painter  there."  And  cast  off  that  painter 
was,  and  ahead  at  full  speed  that  vessel  went,  with  the 
Professor  protesting  against  piracy  and  deforcement, 
threatening  to  take  the  matter  into  the  Arches,  protesting 
that  Hayton  was  coming  for  his  hour  at  ten,  that  he  would 
be  plucked,  and  that  his  widowed  mother  would  sink  into 
her  grave  broken-hearted  ;  but  the  cranks  were  gleaming, 
and  the  screw  was  spinning,  and  her  head  was  for  Holy 
Island,  and  they  were  all  laughing  at  him,  and  so  the  Pro- 
fessor laughed  himself. 

"  Father,"  said  Austin,  "  you  have  stole  Aunt  Maria's 
dog,  and  my  dog  has  tumbled  it  down  into  the  engine- 
room." 

Mr.  Elliot  had  no  time  to  explain,  for,  coming  aft  they 
saw  that  there  were  two  ladies  on  board,  sitting  close  to 
the  wheel.  The  one,  a  large  red-faced,  ill-tempered  look- 
ing lady,  who  was  Aunt  Maria,  and  a  sweet,  gentle,  dark- 

79 


Austin  Elliot 

looking  little  lady,  almost  like  a  Frenchwoman,  who  was 
Eleanor. 

"  By  Jove,"  thought  Austin,  for  an  instant,  "  Eleanor  is 
really  very  pretty.     And  how  well  she  dresses  !  " 

Mr.  Elliot  presented  the  Professor  and  the  pupils  to 
Aunt  Maria,  and  she  received  them  graciously,  though 
she  was  horribly  cross  (why  you  will  guess  soon).  So 
Austin  and  Eleanor  had  just  a  few  words  together  by 
themselves. 

"  Dear  Eleanor." 

"  Dear  Austin." 

'*  How  on  earth  did  Aunt  Maria  and  you  come  to  go 
to  sea  with  the  governor.^  If  she  offers  to  marry  him, 
I'll " 

"  Don't  be  ridiculous,  Austin  dear.  Suppose  she  was  to 
hear  you  ?  " 

"  She  couldn't  hate  me  worse  than  she  does.  I  was 
only  joking.  I  know  the  governor  too  well.  But  how  was 
it  ?  " 

"  I  had  to  have  change  of  air,  and  Mr.  Elliot  asked 
us.  We,  neither  of  us,  mind  the  sea,  you  know.  So  we 
came." 

They  had  time  to  say  thus  much,  and  then  it  became 
necessary  to  introduce  the  Professor  and  Horton  and 
Morton  to  Eleanor.  Austin  stood  beside  her  while  they 
were  presented.  There  was  one  look  in  all  the  three  faces, 
that  of  pleased  admiration.     He  looked  at  her  again. 

"  I  never  thought  Eleanor  pretty,"  said  his  most  serene, 
illustrious,  and  imperial  high  mightiness  to  himself. 
"  But  these  fellows  seem  to  admire  her.  University  men 
always  admire  every  girl  they  come  across,"  continued 
the  blase  man-of-the- world,  who  had  just  been  confessing 
to  his  friend  that  he  knew  nothing  of  that  world.  "  And, 
besides,  she  has  a  sweet  little  face  of  her  own,"  concluded 
the  real  Austin  Elliot. 

So  she  had.  At  breakfast,  in  the  pretty  decorated 
cabin,  while  the  green  water  was  seething  past  them,  and 
80 


Austin  Elliot 

through  every  open  port-hole,  the  purple  Caernarvonshire 
mountains  were  seen  over  the  summer  sea,  as  though  set 
in  a  frame :  at  that  pleasant  breakfast,  in  the  fresh  morn- 
ing air,  it  was  evident  that  both  Horton  and  Morton  were 
quite  of  that  opinion.  Whether  they  talked  to  her,  to 
Austin,  to  Lord  Charles  Barty,  or  to  one  another,  they  al- 
ways looked  at  her,  and  watched  to  see  what  she  thought 
of  what  they  said.  They  were  two  clever  young  fellows, 
but  they  seemed  more  brilliant  than  usual  this  morning ; 
they  were  two  handsome  young  fellows,  but  they  seemed 
handsomer  than  usual  now ;  there  was  a  grander  air 
about  them  than  usual.  In  ordinary  times,  among  their 
fellows,  they  could  be  coarse  and  rude  with  the  rest ;  but 
here,  before  this  dark-eyed  little  girl,  there  was  an  air  of 
high-bred  chivalrous  courtesy  about  them,  not  only  tow- 
ards her,  but  towards  every  one  else.  There  was  some- 
thing about  Eleanor  which  had  changed  them,  had  put 
them  on  their  mettle.  There  was  something  in  that  girl 
after  all.  Austin  was  getting  proud  of  Eleanor,  in  the 
same  way  as  a  Scotchman  is  proud  of  Glenlyon,  as  if  he 
had  helped  to  make  it. 

And  Lord  Charles  Barty,  good  soul,  sat  and  looked  on, 
and  laughed  to  himself  —  things  were  going  on  as  he 
wished. 

Aunt  Maria  was  by  way  of  being  a  clever  woman  ;  and, 
indeed,  she  was  a  clever  woman  in  one  way,  though  pos- 
sibly if  one  had  told  her  the  grounds  on  which  one  con- 
sidered her  clever,  she  would  have  been  very  angry.  She 
could  talk  about  nearly  everything,  and  had  so  much  of 
the  dexterity  of  a  woman  of  the  world,  that  her  knowledge, 
by  no  means  small,  was  made  to  go  a  very  long  way. 
She  was  very  cross  at  Austin's  getting  Eleanor  at  the 
other  end  of  the  table,  among  his  friends ;  but  she  knew 
it  was  no  use  being  cross.  The  Professor  had  been  handed 
over  to  her  bodily,  and  she  applied  herself  to  her  task  with 
a  will,  and  her  task  was  twofold  —  to  show  off  her  own 
knowledge  to  him,  and  to  pick  his  brains  for  future  use. 
8i 


Austin  Elliot 


Chapter  XII 

After  breakfast  they  all  went  on  deck.  Now,  Mr. 
Elliot  was  an  old-fashioned  man,  who  hated  smoking,  and 
never  for  one  instant  tolerated  it  on  his  quarter-deck.  But 
this  did  not  prevent  Austin  wanting  a  cigar ;  and,  besides,, 
he  wanted  to  think  somewhat  —  wanted,  in  fact,  to  think 
about  Eleanor,  and  the  cause  of  her  amazing  success  that 
morning.  "  The  little  brown  thing,"  he  thought,  "  how 
wonderfully  pretty  she  is ! " 

The  moment  he  came  on  the  main  deck,  Robin  loped 
up  to  him,  and  jumped  on  him  ;  after  that  he  dropped  his 
tail  and  ears,  and  followed  him. 

The  proper  place  to  light  your  cigar  is  in  the  engine- 
room,  particularly  when  the  chief  engine-man  is  your  most 
particular  friend  and  gossip.  So  Austin  went  down  the 
engine-room  ladder,  while  Robin  stood  atop,  with  his  head 
on  one  side,  one  ear  up  and  the  other  down,  waiting  to  see 
whether  or  no  his  master  would  come  up  that  way  again, 
or  whether  he  had  to  run  round  and  meet  him  somewhere 
else.  Aunt  Maria's  Pomeranian  came  and  looked  down 
too,  but,  not  being  able  to  understand  the  situation,  sat  on 
the  deck  and  proceeded  with  his  toilet. 

"  And  how's  a*  wi'  ye.  Master  Austin  ?  "  said  the  chief 
engineer.  "  How's  a'  wi'  ye,  my  bonnie  young  gentle- 
man ?  " 

"  So  so,  George.  Well  enough.  I  say,  old  man,  you 
haven't  got  that  meerschaum  of  yours?  Let  us  have  a 
quiet  pull  at  it,  with  some  of  the  Cavendish.  When  I  do 
come  to  sea,  I  don't  care  a  hang  for  cigars." 

Austin  had  some  other  low  tastes  beside  dog-fancying, 
you  see.  He  preferred  tobacco  to  cigars.  He  had  his 
wicked  will,  and  when  he  was  in  the  first  stage  of  com- 
plaining, he  said  — 

"  How  is  she,  Geordie  ?  " 

82 


Austin  Elliot 

"  She's  vera  weel.     She's  going  her  sixty-twa." 

"  Those  boxwood  bearings  didn't  do,  did  they  ?  " 

"  They  didna  do  so  bad,  but  the  hornbeam  are  better. 
Aye,  none  but  a  Scotchman  would  turn  ye  out  such  engines 
as  they." 

"  Why  they  are  Penn's,  of  Greenwich." 

"  Aye  !  aye  !  aye  !  they  are  Penn's,  of  Greenwich,  De'il 
doubt  it.  There's  his  name  on  them.  But  wha  made 
'em  ?     A  Scotchman,  sir  ;  a  Falkirk  man." 

"  I  don't  believe  you,  Geordie.  I  have  a  good  mind  to 
take  you  by  the  hair  of  your  head  and  bang  your  head 
against  the  companion-ladder,  for  that  dreadful  story." 

"  Oh,  ye'll  no  do  that  to  yer  old  Geordie.  Hey,  my 
bonnie  bonnie  boy,  ye  have  got  some  Scot's  blude  in  ye. 
Never  such  a  bonnie  boy  as  you  came  out  of  England. 
Where  got  ye  yon  dog  ?  " 

"  Miss  Cecil  gave  him  to  me." 

Geordie  turned  his  noble  Wilkie-like  face  round  on 
him  for  one  instant,  and  then  turned  it  away  again.  He 
sa/d  — 

"  Mistress  Cecil !    That's  my  Leddy  Mewstone." 

And  Austin  said  "  Yes."  That  was  all  they  said ;  but 
Austin  knew  that,  somehow,  his  old  friend  George  had 
heard  something  about  him  and  Miss  Cecil,  so  he  held  his 
peace. 

"  Yon's  a  bonnie  dog,"  continued  Geordie.  "  There  is 
na  such  dogs  in  the  world.  No,  my  bonnie  —  my  gude 
sir,  I  mean  to  say  —  no  man  kens  what  bonnie  dogs  are 
yon.     That  dog  would  follow  you  to  death." 

Austin  peeped  up  the  companion,  and  saw  that  they 
were  all  come  out  of  the  cuddy,  and  were  on  the  quarter- 
deck (which,  in  this  ship,  was  merely  the  roof  of  that  house 
on  deck  which  was  called  the  cuddy).  He  had  not  finished 
his  pipe  yet,  and  determined  to  go  forward ;  so  he  passed 
by  the  machinery,  and  came  up  by  the  fore-companion, 
and  found  himself  among  the  crew. 

The  watch  were  congregated  round  something  —  some- 


Austin  Elliot 

thing  with  a  sharp  old  voice  belonging  to  it,  which  Austin 
thought  was  tolerably  familiar  to  him,  more  particularly- 
after  he  had  heard  it  say  — 

"  Believe  that  yarn  ?  In  course  I  believe  it.  As  a  gen- 
eral rule,  mind  you,  sailors  is  the  very  drattedest  liars  as 
walks.  But  this  here  ship's  company,  mind  you,  forms  the 
remarkablest  and  astoundingest  exception  to  that  there 
rule,  ever  I  hearn  on.  I  should  no  more  think  of  doubt- 
ing any  think  as  any  member  of  this  ship's  company  took 
in  his  head  to  try  and  make  me  swaller  on,  than  I  should 
think  of  sitting  on  this  here  harness-cask,  and  a  watching 
of  cook's  boy  peeling  of  the  taters  with  his  nasty  dirty  little 
hands." 

As  the  old  man  to  whom  the  voice  belonged  was  doing 
exactly  what  he  described,  his  profession  of  faith  in  the 
veracity  of  the  ship's  company,  was  hailed  with  a  roar  of 
laughter  by  every  one  except  the  man  who  had  "  pitched 
the  last  yarn."  Immediately  after,  they  saw  that  Austin 
was  among  them,  and  drew  off,  smiling  and  touching  their 
locks  to  him.  He  was  a  great  favourite  here,  as  else- 
where. 

"  Well,  James !  "  said  he  to  Miss  Hilton's  old  footman, 
for  it  was  he. 

"  Well,  Master  Austin  ! "  said  the  old  man,  nursing  one 
of  his  legs  on  the  top  of  the  harness-cask,  "  And  so  you're 
come  to  sea,  eh  ?  and  brought  a  hull  biling  on  'em  with 
you.  And  a  elderly  cove,  to  walk  up  and  down  the  quar- 
ter-deck along  of  Aunt  Maria,  while  the  young  uns  makes 
love  to  Miss  Eleanor." 

"  Don't  be  an  old  fool,  James,"  said  Austin,  laughing. 

"  You  might  as  well  say  to  a  sailor,"  said  the  old  man, 
raising  his  voice  so  that  the  ship's  company  might  hear 
him,  "  you  might  as  well  say  to  a  sailor,  don't  be  a  liar ! 
I  might  as  well  say  to  you,  Master  Austin,  don't  you  be 
a  young  fool.  Ah,  well  we  can't  help  it,  none  on  us ! 
We're  all  as  God  made  us ;  we  was  all  born  so,  and  as 
such  we  must  remain." 

S4 


Austin  Elliot 

"  Were  you  born  an  old  fool,  then,  you  most  disagree- 
able old  porcupine  ?  "  said  Austin. 

"  No,  I  warnt,"  said  old  James,  tartly ;  "  I  was  born  a 
young  'un.  My  character  has  deweloped  ;  yours  will  de- 
welope  in  the  same  way  as  mine  if  you  live  long  enough  ; 
which  Lord  forbid  ! " 

"  Come,  old  fellow !  you  don't  mean  that  ?  " 

"  Yes  I  do,  when  I  see  some  things.  I  don't  want  none 
that  I  loves  to  live  too  long,  and  see  what  I  see.  And  I 
loves  you,  and  you  knows  it." 

"  What's  the  matter  now,  old  fellow  >  " 

"  Drat  the  whole  country  of  North  Wales,  say  I !  "  was 
the  reply,  "  with  its  mountains,  and  its  waterfalls,  and  its 
new  lighthouse  on  the  Lleyn,  and  its  comings  on  board  at 
Aberystwith,  and  its  going  ashore  again  at  Caernarvon, 
accause  you  were  at  Bangor,  and  leaving  she  to  stump  up 
and  down  the  quarter-deck,  along  of  a  tutor,  in  her  aggra- 
vating old  lilac  jean  boots !  Drat  it  all !  if  it  warn't  for 
Miss  Eleanor  I'd  go  into  an  alms-house  ! " 

At  the  mention  of  the  quarter-deck  and  jean  boots, 
Austin  looked  there.  Aunt  Maria  was  walking  up  and 
down  with  the  Professor.  She  /ta^^  got  on  lilac  jean  boots ; 
and,  what  is  more,  those  jean  boots  were  the  most  im- 
portant thing  which  took  your  eye.  For  being  eight  or 
nine  feet  over  Austin's  head,  and  her  feet  therefore  more 
than  a  yard  above  his  eyes,  her  whole  figure  was  (to  him) 
unnaturally  foreshortened,  as  in  early  photographs. 

Austin  looked  at  Aunt  Maria  for  one  instant,  and  saw 
that  James  was  alluding  to  her ;  he  turned  round  to  mild- 
ly rebuke  the  old  man,  but  the  old  man  had  been  too 
clever  for  him.  He  had  gone  into  the  galley,  and  sat  him- 
self down  alongside  of  the  great  fat  jolly  cook,  in  front  of 
the  coppers,  with  his  heels  under  him  like  a  tailor,  watch- 
ing the  pots  and  pans  on  the  stove.  The  cook  caught 
Austin's  eye,  and  gave  a  fat  wink  towards  Austin,  and  a 
nod  at  the  old  man,  as  if  he  would  say,  "  here  he  is."  And 
lest  you  may  think  this  a  liberty  on  the  part  of  the  cook,  I 

85 


Austin  Elliot 

must  tell  you  that  Austin  had  been   cook's  very  good 
friend,  ever  since  he  was  six  years  old. 

The  engineer  had  let  him  know  that  Captain  Hertford 
had  been  on  board  ;  and  so  when  old  James  had  talked  in 
his  grotesque  and  rambling  way  about  some  one  having 
gone  ashore  at  Caernarvon,  Austin  knew  what  he  was 
alluding  to.  Captain  Hertford  !  What  could  have  made 
his  father  take  him  on  board  ?  And,  moreover,  now  he 
came  to  think,  why  had  his  father  brought  Aunt  Maria  to 
sea  with  him  ?  He  wished  he  could  get  his  father  alone. 
At  this  moment,  the  Master  came  forward. 

"  Where  is  the  governor,  Mr.  Jackson  .''  "  said  Austin, 
suddenly  ;  "  he  is  not  on  the  quarter-deck." 

"  Alone  in  his  cabin.  Master  Austin,"  said  the  Master  ; 
"  now's  your  time  or  never." 

"  Thanks  !  "  said  Austin,  and  bolted  aft  at  once.  He 
ran  through  the  saloon,  and  opened  the  door  of  his  father's 
cabin ;  his  father  was  there,  seated  before  a  tableful  of 
papers. 

"  My  own  boy  ! "  said  Mr.  Elliot ;  "  I  thought  you  were 
never  coming  to  me " 

And  we  will  go  on  to  that  part  of  the  conversation  which 
relates  to  the  story  which  I  have  got  to  tell. 

"  Father,"  said  Austin,  "  how  come  you  to  have  Aunt 
Maria  on  board  ?  " 

"  Dear  little  Eleanor  was  ordered  a  sea-voyage,"  said 
Mr.  Elliot,  drumming  on  the  table  with  his  fingers,  "  and 
so  I  offered  her  one,  and  she  accepted  it  gratefully.  Aunt 
Maria  is  her  natural  guardian,  though  she  z's  of  age." 

"  Who  ?  Aunt  Maria  }  " 

"  Don't  be  a  puppy  to  me,  on  board  my  own  yacht. 
You  know  who  I  mean." 

"  His  own  yacht!  O  Lord  !"  replied  Austin.  **  Think 
of  the  pride  and  conceit  of  the  man  for  an  instant,  will  you 
have  the  goodness  ?     O  Lord  !  " 

"  Don't  you  be  a  puppy,  sir,  or  I  shall  be  very  angry 
with  you.    Some  one  might  hear  you." 
86 


Austin  Elliot 

"  Did  it  cut  itself,  shaving,  in  two  places  this  morning, 
in  consequence  of  the  rolling  of  its  own  yacht ;  and  did  it 
pull  two  tufts  of  nap  off  its  best  hat  and  stick  them  on  its 
countenance ;  and  didn't  everybody  see  what  had  hap- 
pened the  moment  it  appeared  on  the  quarter-deck,  and 
didn't  they  all  grin  and  giggle  most  confoundedly  !  " 

"  Pax  !  Austin,  pax  !  "  said  Mr.  Elliot,  trying  to  look 
grave.  "  Come,  don't  waste  time  here  in  gibing  at  me, 
you  have  plenty  of  time  for  that  ashore." 

"Oh  no,  I  haven't.  If  you  were  a  civil  person,  you 
would  come  and  live  near  me.  There  is  not  a  soul  in 
Bangor  that  I  can  chaff,  as  I  dare  to  chaff  you." 

"  Now  you  are  going  to  be  a  monkey  again." 

"  No  I  am  not,  only  a  puppy.  Man,  do  you  know  how 
I  will  pay  you  out,  for  calling  me  those  two  names  ?  " 

"  Austin,  my  boy,  be  serious.  Aunt  Maria  will  be 
blundering  down  here  presently,  and  spoiling  our  tete-d,- 
tete,  and  you  will  find  her  deuced  difficult  to  dislodge." 

"  Aren't  you  going  to  marry  Aunt  Maria,  then  ?  "  said 
Austin. 

"  I  have  not  quite  made  up  my  mind  about  that,"  said 
Mr.  Elliot.  *'  I  have  very  nearly  done  so,  but  I  think  there 
is  something  due  to  her  feelings." 

Austin  was  sufficiently  sobered  now.  He  sat  down 
on  a  form,  and  watched  his  father  eagerly,  with  a  pale 
face. 

•'  She  has  fifteen  thousand  pounds,"  continued  Mr.  Elliot. 
"  A  man  at  my  time  of  life  don't  marry  for  love,  Austin. 
Besides,  you  want  some  one  to  advise,  strengthen,  and 
lead  you ;  and  who  is  there  like  Miss  Hilton  ?  Yes,  Aus- 
tin, for  your  sake  —  for  your  sake  only,  my  dear  Austin, 
I  have  determined  to "    • 

Austin  leapt  up  with  some";hing  like  an  oath. 

"  Your  gratitude  is  very  natural,  my  dear  boy,"  said  Mr. 
Elliot ;  '•  mind,  it  is  for  your  '^ake  alone  that  I  marry.  Say 
not  another  word.  If  my  own  inclinations  were  consulted, 
I  should  object  to  marry  thi?  most  ill-tempered,  unprin- 


Austin  Elliot 

cipled  woman  I  ever  met.  But  you  are  my  first  object,  of 
course." 

"  Father,  dear  father,  you  are  not  in  earnest  ?  " 

*'  No,  but  I  told  you  to  be,  a  quarter  of  an  hour  ago,  and 
you  wouldn't  be.  So  I  have  taken  this  means  to  make 
you  so,  you  butterfly.  You  see  there  are  two  sides  to  a 
joke." 

"  Yours  was  a  cruel  one,"  said  Austin. 

"  Not  so  cruel  as  your  coupling  my  name  with  that  old 
woman's,  my  boy ;  don't  do  it  again.  Now  listen  to  me 
soberly  and  seriously,  will  you  ?  " 

Austin  did  not  reply.  He  was  standing  behind  his 
father's  chair,  with  his  arm  round  his  neck,  and  their 
faces  so  close  together  that  they  touched  each  time  the  ves- 
sel rolled. 

Mr.  Elliot  went  on.  "Attend  closely  to  what  I  say, 
Austin,  my  dear ;  and  if  anything  happens  to  me,  remem- 
ber every  word  of  it.  Coming  up  the  coast,  I  put  in  at 
Aberystwith." 

"  So  I  heard,  dad,"  said  Austin ;  "  /  am  on  your  track." 

"  And  there  Captain  Hertford  came  on  board.  You 
know  Captain  Hertford  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  go  on." 

"  I  know  him  pretty  well.  He  almost  as^ed  me  for  a 
passage,  but  I  did  not  encourage  him.  But  Aunt  Maria, 
as  we  will  call  her,  came  to  me  and  asked  for  him  in  set 
terms,  and  then,  of  course,  I  treated  him  with  the  greatest 
empressement,  and  had  him  on  board." 

"  Good,  father ;  speak  low." 

"  Well,  my  boy,"  said  Mr.  Elliot,  with  his  lips  almost 
against  Austin's  ear,  "  thertN  is  a  secret  between  Aunt 
Maria  and  that  man,  and  I'l!  be  hanged  if  I  know  what 
it  is." 

"  Charles  Barty,  father,"  said  Austin,  "  gives  a  very  bad 
character  of  Captain  Hertford.  Mayn't  he  know  some- 
thing about  Aunt  Maria  ?  " 

"  Go  on,"  said  Mr.  Elliot.  "  Let  us  hear  your  say  out." 
88 


Austin  Elliot 

"  You  know  that  Aunt  Maria,  when  five-and-twenty, 
followed  a  certain  captain  to  India,  and  came  home  again 
still  Miss  Hilton,  without  improving  her  condition  in  any 
way,  except  getting  herself  cured  of  searsickness,  to  which 
fact  we  are  indebted  for  her  presence  here  to-day.  You 
know  that." 

"  I  know  it,  go  on." 

"  Do  you  think  that  he  knows  anything  to  Aunt  Maria's 
disadvantage,  eh  !  —  anything  of  that  sort  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  ;  not  a  bad  guess  for  a  very  young  man.  Do 
you  know  who  Captain  Hertford  is  .''  " 

"  I  know  something  about  him." 

"  I  know  very  little.  I  know  that  he  is  unprincipled  — 
that  he  is  the  man  who  helped  poor  Robert  to  his  ruin." 

"  Robert  Hilton  !  " 

"  Aye !  Robert  Hilton ;  and  that  he  has  some  secret 
with  Aunt  Maria,  and  that  she  is  helping  him  to  marry 
Eleanor  Hilton,  and  her  nine  thousand  a  year ;  that  is 
all." 

Austin  brought  his  fist  down  on  the  table  with  a  crash, 
and  said  something. 

"  Don't  swear,  sir  —  don't  swear,"  said  Mr.  Elliot;  "  it 
is  not  good  ton  to  swear  before  your  father,  sir.  The 
only  time  when  a  young  man  ought  to  swear,  sir,  is  when 
he  wakes  up  one  fine  morning,  and  finds  that  he  has  flown 
his  kite  a  devilish  deal  too  high,  and  that  Miss  Cecil  had 
thought  as  much  of  him  as  she  did  of  the  groom  that  lifted 
her  on  her  horse.  Then  a  man  might  swear,  sir,  even  be- 
fore his  father ;  but  not  when  he  is  leaving  a  sweet,  ami- 
able, beautiful  —  aye  !  beautiful,  in  your  teeth  !  —  young 
girl  to  be  the  prey  of  a  rogue  like  Hertford.  And  —  never 
mind  !  you  had  no  right  to  swear  in  my  presence,  sir  !  / 
don't  care  about  nine  thousand  a  year,  God  knows  !  You 
will  have  about  fifteen  hundred  ;  tDut  you  are  a  fool." 

"  But,  father,  I  love  Miss  Cecil." 

"  No,  you  don't !  you  love  Lady  Mewstone,  and  are 
therefore  a  knave  as  well  as  a  fool.  D — n  it !  here's  aunt 
89 


Austin  Elliot 

Maria  herself.  Sit  down,  and  don't  begin  to  grin  again, 
you  monkey." 

"  You  had  no  business,  sir,  to  swear  in  my  presence," 
said  Austin,  as  Aunt  Maria  opened  the  cuddy-door.  "  It 
is  not  good  ton  for  the  father  to  swear  before  his  son,  sir ! 
The  only  time  when  an  old  man  ought  to  swear  sir  —  " 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Elliot. 

•'  Has  your  father  been  swearing,  then  ?  "  said  Aunt 
Maria. 

"  Dreadfully  !  "  said  Austin. 

"  Then  I  wish,"  said  Aunt  Maria,  "  that  he  would  —  I 
don't  say  swear,  because  I  don't  uphold  that,  even  in  a 
sainted  man  like  your  dear  father ;  but  I  wish  he  would 
say  something  strong  about  that  dog  of  yours." 

"  What  has  he  been  at,  Miss  Hilton  }  " 

"  At  —  nothing !    But  he  is  such  an  ugly  cur." 

"Well,  my  dear  Miss  Hilton,  he  shall  be  out  of  your 
way  in  a  few  hours.  By  the  bye,  dad,  you  must  set  us 
ashore  at  Conway.  Hayton  is  waiting  for  his  hour  with 
the  professor.     The  loss  of  two  hours  might  pluck  him." 

"  All  right,"  said  Mr.  Elliot ;  "  her  head  will  be  that 
way  presently  —  in  fact,  is  so  now.     I  am  going  on  deck." 

"  Well,  Austin,"  said  Aunt  Maria,  when  they  were  left 
alone,  "  and  how  are  you,  sirrah,  eh  ?  " 

"  I  am  very  bad,"  said  Austin. 

"  Good  heavens !  what's  the  matter  —  meagrims,  hys- 
terics, or  what  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  They  say  that  you  flew  your  kite  at  that  girl  of  George 
Cecil's  who  has  married  that  prig.  Lord  Mewstone.  I  de- 
nied it  when  they  told  me.  I  said  you  were  not  very  wise, 
but  that  you  weren't  such  a  fool  as  that." 

Austin  looked  at  Aunt  Maria.  What  a  coarse,  violent 
face  it  was.  Old  Hilton's  sister.  Well,  he  had  a  coarse, 
violent  vein  in  him  too,  and  she  was  something  like  him. 
He  looked  her  in  the  face  for  a  second,  and  then  said,  with 
a  smile,  "  Give  me  your  arm,  and  come  on  deck.  Don't 
90 


Austin  Elliot 

be  disagreeable,  that's  a  good  soul ;  "  which  course  of  pro- 
ceeding puzzled  Aunt  Maria,  and  made  her  do  what  he 
told  her. 

And  Mr.  Elliot  was  as  good  as  his  word.  He  took  them 
for  a  cruise  on  that  glowing  Summer's  day,  and  there  was 
not  one  of  them  who  did  not,  ever  after,  connect  the  mem- 
ory of  the  kind,  good,  and  just  old  man,  with  one  of  the 
most  delightful  days  in  their  life. 

They  went  to  Holy  Island,  where  the  preventive  men 
had  grown  pale  and  flabby,  from  eating  rabbits,  and  the 
atmosphere  was  laden  with  the  scent  of  onions,  and  where 
the  oldest  of  them  looked,  with  his  long  grey  hair  in  the 
wind,  not  at  all  unlike  an  old  rabbit,  with  a  lot  of  onion 
sauce  emptied  over  his  head :  and  where  Mr.  Elliot  fright- 
ened the  population  out  of  their  wits,  by  telling  Lieutenant 
Hodder,  of  the  Coast  Guard,  that  if  Sir  R.  B.  didn't  repair 
a  certain  wall,  he  should  be  forced  to  "  look  him  up," 
which,  being  understood  by  a  Welch  bystander,  as  "  lock 
him  up,"  and  as  such  being  translated  into  Welch,  caused 
a  report  that  evening  in  the  taverns  at  Beaumaris,  that  the 
Queen  had  sent  down  an  English  lord  in  a  frigate,  to  seize 
the  persons,  not  only  of  Sir  R.  B.,  but  of  the  Hon.  Col.  D, 
R,  and  Mr.  A.  S.,  and  commit  them  all  to  the  Tower,  till 
they  had  purged  themselves  of  their  contempt,  which  cir- 
cumstance illustrates  the  advantage  of  a  portion  of  her 
Majesty's  subjects  talking  Welch,  while  the  rest  talk  Eng- 
lish. 

And  re-embarking  they  went  eastward,  and  at  lunch 
time  were  steaming  merrily  under  the  limestone  slabs  of 
the  Orm's  Head,  watching  the  brimming  sea  leap  on  to  the 
black  ledges  in  fountains,  and  pour  from  them  in  cascades, 
and  Penmaenmawr  hanging  1,500  feet  aloft  behind,  a 
wrinkled  mass  of  purple  stone.  Then  Conway  castle,  and 
affectionate  farewells  in  the  pleasant  Summer  evening, 
Eleanor,  and  Mr.  Elliot,  standing  on  the  quarter-deck,  arm- 
in-arm,  and  waving  their  hands  at  them,  to  the  very  last.  A 
glorious  day  finished  by  a  pleasant  drive  home,  under  the 

91 


Austin  Elliot 

over-hanging  crags,  with  Robin  leading  the  way,  a  hun- 
dred yards  ahead,  barking  joyfully,  as  if  he  so  approved  of 
the  whole  proceedings  that  he  could  not  hold  his  tongue. 

"  By  Jove,"  said  Horton,  as  they  drove  under  Penmaen- 
mawr,  "  what  a  glorious  creature  it  is !  " 

•'  Ah  !  "  said  Lord  Charles,  "  is  she  not." 

Austin  looked  suddenly  and  stealthily  at  him,  and  Lord 
Charles  took  the  opportunity,  suddenly  and  stealthily  also, 
of  making  a  face  at  Austin. 

"  Is  she  French,  Elliot  ?  "  said  Horton. 

**  French !  oh  dear,  no,"  replied  Austin.  "  She  was 
built  by  White,  of  Cowes." 

"  Who  was  ?  "  said  Horton,  in  amazement. 

"  The  Yacht.     The  Pelican,"  said  Austin. 

"  I  was  talking  about  Miss  Hilton,"  said  Horton, 

"  Ah  !  I  wasn't,"  said  Austin. 

*'  But  is  she  French,  you  stupid  ?  "  said  Horton. 

"  No,  she  ain't,"  said  Austin. 

•'  She  looks  like  it,"  said  Horton. 

•*  Does  she  ?  "  said  Austin. 

"  The  island  of  Anglesea,  at  which  we  are  looking," 
said  the  Professor,  suddenly,  "  is  the  Mona  of  the  Agri- 
cola  of  Tacitus.  The  Mona  Cassaris  is  evidently  the  Isle 
of  Man.  In  the  latter  case,  a  corruption  of  the  Latin  has 
been  retained  ;  in  the  former — " 

"  Well,  you  needn't  be  sulky,  Elliot,"  said  Horton, 
rudely  stopping  the  Professor's  good-natured  attempt  at 
changing  the  subject,  by  saying  the  first  thing  he  could 
think  of. 

"  I  ain't  sulky,  old  fellow,"  said  Austin,  eagerly,  "  by 
Jove,  no.  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it.  Her  mother  was  a 
French  woman.  It  was  a  deuced  good  guess  of  yours. 
She  is  a  noble  little  body,  is  she  not  ?  I  am  so  proud  at 
all  of  you  admiring  her  so,  you  can't  think.  She  is,  as  it 
were,  my  sister  you  know." 

The  Professor,  who  was  sitting  next  to  Austin,  quietly 
patted  him  on  the  back.  They  were  all  merry  again 
92 


Austin  Elliot 

directly.  No  one  ever  could  withstand  Austin's  good 
humour,  and  it  was  quite  useless  to  try.  Even  for  Aunt 
Maria. 

That  day,  Hayton  had  come  for  his  hour's  logic,  and 
had  met  the  Professor's  mother  in  the  hall.  The  kind  old 
lady  was  in  profound  despair.  Hayton  was  the  only 
"  shady  "  man  of  the  lot ;  the  only  "  pass  "  man  of  the 
whole.  The  Professor  never  took  mere  pass  men.  He 
had  made  an  exception  with  regard  to  Hayton,  because  he 
was  one  of  the  most  popular  men  in  the  University. 
Every  day  was  of  importance.  It  would  be  so  dreadful, 
thought  old  Mrs.  Professor,  to  have  one  of  their  men 
plucked,  and  poor  Hayton,  too  !  of  all  others,  the  general 
favourite.  She  was  nearly  in  tears  when  she  met  him  in 
the  hall.  She  told  him  that  the  Professor  had  been  carried 
to  sea,  and  was  at  that  present  speaking  hull  down.  What 
was  it  ?  Was  it  Tacitus  ?  She  would  gladly  lend  him 
Bohn's  translation  for  an  hour.  If  it  was  Latin  prose,  she 
thought  —  she  said  it  so  kindly  and  hesitatingly,  "  she  be- 
lieved —  nay,  she  felt  sure,  that  she  could  detect  —  any  — ^ 
any  grammatical  error,  if  he  wouldn't  be  offended.  But 
what  use  was  it,"  she  said.  "  The  Professor  might  be 
away  for  months.  The  Duke  of  Cheshire's  yacht  had 
come,  and  carried  off  Lord  Charles  Barty,  and  the  rest  of 
them.  And  who  could  tell  when  they  would  be  back. 
This  came  of  having  noblemen  in  the  party.  She  had 
always  been  against  it." 

"  It's  very  kind  of  you,"  said  honest  Hayton,  "  but  it's 
the  logic.     I  am  afraid  you  cannot  help  me." 

At  this  moment,  Dayton  came  flying  round  the  corner. 
"  I  say,  old  fellow,"  he  cried  out,  "  Shall  I  give  you  an 
hour's  coach  }  " 

Old  Mrs.  Professor  shed  tears  of  joy;  and  the  two 
patient  young  men  sat  up  in  the  window,  with  their  heads 
together,  working  at  the  logic,  while  the  others  took  their 
holiday  on  the  shining  summer  sea. 


93 


Austin  Elliot 


Chapter  XIII 

Austin's  political  education  was  going  on  famously. 
The  ultra-Tory  opinions,  carefully  instilled  into  him,  ever 
since  he  could  talk*  by  his  father,  were  bearing  fruit. 
Austin,  at  the  age  of  one-and-twenty,  was  a  very  advanced 
Radical. 

I  suppose  that  the  very  best  and  cleverest  men  have  a 
hobby  of  some  sort,  which  the  rules  of  society  prevent 
their  mounting  out  of  the  bosom  of  their  families.  I  sup- 
pose that  every  man  could  bore  you  to  death  on  some  one 
subject,  if  you  would  only  let  him.  Mr.  Elliot  had  a  hobby, 
and  had  ridden  it  continuously  before  Austin  was  old 
enough  to  rebel.  He  had  bored  him  with  his  hobby,  and 
that  hobby  was  political  talk. 

By  the  time  Austin  was  ten,  he  determined  that,  by 
hook  or  by  crook,  he  would  be  bored  no  longer.  Being 
too  young  to  know  that  there  were  two  sides  to  the  ques- 
tion, he  first  began  his  rebellion  by  going  to  sleep,  upset- 
ting things,  playing  with  the  dog,  and  so  on,  while  his 
father  was  talking.  These  efforts  were  utterly  futile.  Mr. 
Elliot  not  only  wanted  to  instil  Tory  principles  into  his 
son,  but  he  also  wanted  to  hear  himself  talk.  If  he  could 
not  do  the  one  thing,  he  was  most  fully  determined  to  do 
the  other. 

However  Mr.  Elliot  started  in  one  of  these  political 
diatribes,  he  always  arrived  at  the  same  result  —  that  of 
praising  Mr.  Pitt  and  the  Duke  to  the  skies.  Whenever 
Austin  heard  one  of  those  two  names  mentioned,  he  used 
to  get  desperate.  He  began  to  hate  them.  And,  on  the 
other  hand,  hearing  Fox  and  Sir  Robert  Peel  so  steadily 
and  systematically  abused,  he  began,  out  of  mere  obstinacy, 
to  long  to  hear  what  they  would  have  had  to  say  for  them- 
selves. If  he  could  only  get  hold  of  facts  about  these  two 
men,  he  thought  he  could  at  all  events  have  a  wrangle 
94 


Austin  Elliot 

with  his  father,  which  would  be  better  fun  than  sitting 
mumchance,  and  hearing  about  that  intolerable  person, 
Pitt. 

But  there  was  no  hope  left  for  him  whatever.  His 
father  had  determined  that  he  should  be  a  Tory,  and  took 
care  to  form  his  opinions  from  his  own  facts.  He,  good 
man,  so  thoroughly  succeeded  in  boring  the  boy,  that,  at 
twelve,  Austin  was  mad  to  get  hold  of  some  facts  on  the 
other  side,  and  fight  his  father.  He  did  not  care  about 
the  truth  —  how  should  a  boy  of  twelve  years  old  care 
much  about  political  questions  ?  He  hated  the  name  of 
politics,  but  he  hated  Toryism  worse.  He  had,  by  his 
father's  management,  imbibed  liberal  opinions,  before  he 
had  heard  a  single  argument  in  favour  of  them. 

The  first  weapon  he  got  into  his  hands  was  this.  Mr. 
Elliot,  most  temperate  of  men,  let  out  one  day,  that  Mr. 
Pitt  used  to  drink  a  great  deal  of  wine.  Austin  seized  on 
this,  and  used  it  with  amazing  dexterity.  It  is  surprising 
what  a  desperate  man  will  do  with  a  very  inferior  weapon. 
A  Roman  would  show  good  fight  with  his  stylus  ;  on  oc- 
casion :  I  myself,  have  seen  Mr.  Dennis  Moriarty  junior, 
do  the  most  magnificent  battle  with  an  old  fire-shovel,  till 
overborne  by  numbers.  Yesterday  only,  I  was  shown  a 
wooden  dagger  which  had  just  been  brought  from  Naples, 
a  specimen  of  those  which  are  made  in  prison  by  the 
Bourbonists,  for  purposes  of  assassination,  after  their 
knives  are  taken  from  them ;  and  a  very  ugly  weapon  it 
was.  Austin  used  his  lath  dagger  —  Mr.  Pitt's  excess  in 
wine  —  with  the  greater  success,  because  his  father  had 
always  impressed  on  him,  that  the  great  vice  of  Fox  and 
his  companions,  was  drunkenness. 

But,  after  Austin's  first  half  at  Eton,  he  came  home 
with  a  large  quiver-full  of  barbed  arrows,  which  he  dis- 
charged at  his  father  with  enormous  effect.  He  had  got 
into  bad  company  there. 

The  very  first  day  he  had  been  turned  into  the  play- 
ground there,  he,  feeling  lonely  and  somewhat  scared, 

95 


Austin  Elliot 

found  himself  beside  another  new  boy,  from  the  same 
house,  in  the  same  situation.  They  made  friends  that 
day,  and  their  friendship  only  ended  with  death. 

This  was  Lord  Charles  Barty  :  a  noble  boy  of  twelve, 
with  some  brains,  and  more  ambition.  He  came  of  a 
great  Whig  house.  Whiggery,  as  Mr.  Elliot  would  have 
called  it,  had  been  his  "  life  element "  from  his  birth. 
When  Austin,  after  a  few  days,  told  him  his  leading 
grievance,  that  young  gentleman,  aged  only  twelve,  was 
enabled,  by  the  help  of  his  eldest  brother.  Lord  Wargrave, 
to  supply  Austin  with  a  few  smooth  pebbles  from  the 
brook,  to  sling  at  the  Tory  giant,  and  promised  to  bring 
some  more  soon. 

When  Austin  began  casting  these  pebbles  at  his  father, 
in  the  holidays,  Mr.  Elliot  was  both  amused  and  pleased  ; 
at  all  events  his  boy  was  turning  his  attention  that  way. 
He  would  sooner  see  him  a  Radical  than  see  him  without 
opinions. 

Half  after  half,  the  merry  battle  went  on  between  father 
and  son.  The  old  Tory  sub-secretaries,  and  such  men, 
who  formed  Mr.  Elliot's  little  society,  grew  greyer  under 
the  audacious  speculations  which  Austin  brought  from 
Eton  each  half.  "  These  opinions,"  said  they,  "  were  an- 
swered when  we  were  boys."  —  "  But  never  refuted," 
quoth  Austin.  At  which  his  father  would  rub  his  knees 
and  laugh,  and  the  sub-secretaries  would  say  to  one  an- 
other, that  Elliot  was  getting  into  his  dotage,  and  "  that 
boy  would  go  to  the  devil,  sir,  as  sure  as  you  are  born." 

Fired  by  Austin's  speculative  questions.  Lord  Charles 
Barty  supplemented  his  usual  holiday  amusements,  which 
were  not  generally  very  varied,  by  gaining  a  little  political 
knowledge  —  by  picking  up  stones  for  Austin  to  fling  at 
his  father.  His  usual  holiday  amusements  were  these  — 
to  interrupt  his  sister's  lessons  as  much  as  possible,  and 
in  the  absence  of  the  governess,  to  (as  he  called  it)  make 
hay  in  the  school-room.  When  she  came  back,  boxed 
his  ears,  and  turned  him  out,  he  would  go  to  the  stables 
96 


Austin  Elliot 

and  coax  and  wheedle  the  stud-groom  into  giving  him  a 
surreptitious  mount.  Lastly,  he  would  take  his  blind 
brother,  Edward,  out  for  a  ramble  through  the  park, 
through  the  wood,  over  the  broad  turnip-fields,  up  to  the 
top-most  height  of  Kingsdown,  where  Lord  Edward  might 
lie  on  the  short  turf,  staring  to  heaven  with  his  sightless 
eyes,  and  listening  to  the  music  of  the  five  tall  firs  that 
moaned  in  the  summer  air  overhead. 

The  way  he  gained  his  political  information  was  this. 
Whenever  he  dined  at  table,  he  used  to  stay  until  his 
father  went  into  the  drawing-room.  And  in  his  father's 
house  he  was  pretty  sure  to  find  himself,  after  the  ladies 
were  gone,  sitting  next  to  a  pretty  strong  Whig.  And  from 
this  tolerably  strong  Whig  he  would  get  opinions  ;  the  ul- 
timate destination  of  which  was,  that  they  were  poured  out 
on  the  head  of  Mr.  Elliot  senior,  to  his  great  amusement. 

So  by  this  process,  by  Lord  Charles  Barty  getting  argu- 
ments and  giving  them  to  Austin,  and  by  Austin  letting 
them  against  his  father,  both  these  young  gentlemen 
found  themselves,  at  twenty-one,  in  a  state  of  very  ad- 
vanced Radicalism.  And,  as  all  young  men  at  twenty- 
one,  if  they  are  worth  anything,  have  their  hero,  so  these 
two  young  gentlemen  had  theirs.  I  need  not  say  that 
that  hero  was  Sir  Robert  Peel.  These  furious  young  dem- 
ocrats had  been  ashamed  to  confess  the  fact  to  one  an- 
other, the  fact  that  their  fetish  was  a  so-called  Tory,  be- 
fore the  time  when  Lord  Charles  galloped  over  the  goose 
on  Putney  Common.     But  so  it  was. 

What  was  the  reason  that  the  wildest  young  Radicals 
of  those  times  pinned  their  faith  on  Sir  Robert  Peel  ?  I 
suppose  because  they  knew,  that  should  a  pinch  come,  he 
would  act.  Would  pitch  party  formulas  to  the  winds. 
Horner's  resolutions,  and  the  Catholic  question,  had 
shown  them  that.  Their  instincts  showed  them  that  he 
was  a  true  Radical.     As  he  was  in  one  sense. 

When  these  two  young  gentlemen  were  elected  Mem- 
bers of  the  Union,  then  the  Thames  got  a-fire  indeed. 
97 


Austin  Elliot 

They  uttered  the  most  dreadful  opinions.  They  came 
down  to  that  house,  sir  (that  was  little  Pickles  of  Brase- 
nose:  he  was  President),  and  they  held  in  their  hands  all 
sorts  of  dreadful  documents  ;  and  they  had  yet  to  learn  : 
and  they  saw  the  honourable  member  opposite  in  his 
place,  and  played  the  deuce  with  him.  They  were  the 
two  most  terrible  Radicals  at  the  Union,  these  two. 
There  was  no  doubt  of  that. 

But  after  all  said  and  done,  they  were  neither  of  them 
true  blue  Radicals.  The  metal  never  rang  clean  and 
clear.  They  both  stopped  short.  Austin  politically,  and 
Lord  Charles  socially. 

Austin  thought  Lord  Charles  went  too  far.  Perhaps  he 
did.  His  proposition  was  to  pull  down  the  old  house, 
and  then  begin  to  think  about  building  it  up  again,  with 
such  materials  as  heaven  should  think  fit  to  send;  or 
should  heaven  send  no  materials,  to  let  it  build  itself 
(which  no  house  ever  did  yet,  except  the  American  house, 
which  has  tumbled  down,  and  will  have  to  be  built  all 
over  again)  :  this  displeased  Austin.  Lord  Charles  also 
seemed  to  think  that  no  one  should  do  anything  as  long  as 
any  one  else  existed  who  could  do  it  better ;  that  we  must 
have  the  exactly  right  man  in  the  right  place,  or  we  were 
naught.  At  this  Austin  fired  up,  and  said  that  in  that 
case.  Lord  Charles  and  he  might  find  themselves  in  the 
position,  the  one  of  a  crossing-sweeper  and  the  other  of  a 
shoeblack. 

But  in  Lord  Charles's  model  republic,  there  were  to  be  no 
crossings,  and  no  shoes.  So  Austin's  illustration  fell  to  the 
ground,  and  like  many  other  silly  people,  he  abandoned 
the  argument,  from  shame  of  having  made  a  clumsy  illus- 
tration. 

"  Then  what  the  deuce  is  to  become  of  us  .^  "  asked 
Austin. 

"What  does  it  matter?  What  are  a  few  worthless 
martyrs,  like  myself,  in  comparison  to  the  great  cause  ?  " 

Austin  submitted  that  it  did  matter,  and  that  they  had 
98 


Austin  Elliot 

better  not  be  in  too  great  a  hurry.  He  would  sometimes, 
indeed,  laugh  at  the  more  wild  of  his  friend's  speculations. 
In  theory  Austin  was  a  real  Radical ;  but  he  did  not  wish 
his  theories  to  be  put  into  practice. 

Lord  Charles  also  stopped  at  a  certain  point.  He  had 
certain  Radical  theories  concerning  marriage,  with  which 
Austin  one-half  agreed.  For  instance,  that  the  human 
race  were  all  of  the  same  species,  and  that  no  bar  should 
be  put  to  marriages  between  young  people,  if  they  fell  in 
love.  He  was  a  high  Tractarian,  and  made  High-Church 
thought  fit  into  his  political  theories  with  the  most  admira- 
ble dexterity  ;  his  reverence  for  marriage  and  women  was 
of  the  highest  kind  ;  and  he  used  to  say  that  of  all  things 
he  would  admire  a  nobleman  who  would  marry  his  gar- 
dener's daughter.  Austin  agreed ;  but  when  he  put  the 
converse  of  the  proposition  about  the  gardener's  son  mar- 
rying— eh !  Lord  Charles  got  in  a  pet,  and  said  that 
Austin  never  would  be  serious,  and  delighted  in  talking 
infernal  nonsense  out  of  pure  aggravation. 

"  Don't  be  cross,  Charles,"  said  Austin. 

"  I  ain't  cross,"  said  Lord  Charles,  angrily,  blundering 
over  Robin,  and  giving  him  a  kick,  at  the  same  time  using 
a  word,  which  will  never  be  used  in  the  great  republic. 

He  was  cross.  Austin  had  no  right  to  say  such  horrible 
things.     Amelia  and  the  gardener's  boy.     Good  God ! 

Austin  did  not  laugh  at  him.  He  had  tripped  him  up, 
and  was  content.  The  human-race  theory  would  not  hold 
water,  it  appeared. 

Lord  Charles  was  sulky  for  a  time  ;  but  he  called  Robin 
to  him,  and  put  his  cheek  against  the  dog's  face,  in  that 
way  asking  forgiveness  for  having  kicked  him.  Robin 
begged  him  with  his  great  eyes  to  say  nothing  about  it, 
and  laid  his  beautiful  head  on  his  knee. 

"  You  have  been  a  fool,  Austin,"  said  Lord  Charles, 
sulkily.  Englishmen  are  generally  sulky  when  they  have 
their  own  weapons  turned  against  them  ;  have  got  out  of 
temper  with  their  friends,  and  want  to  make  it  up. 

99 


Austin  Elliot 

"  Ah !  I  know,"  said  Austin,  laughing.  "  You  mean 
about  Miss  —  Lady  Mewstone,  you  Jacobin  !  Come,  let 
us  argue  the  converse  of  your  proposition  on  this  case. 
Come  on.  There  is  nothing  offensive  here.  I  am  Lord 
Mewstone's  equal  in  talent,  and  in  manners.  Why  should 
I  not  have  married  Miss  Cecil  ?  I  consider  she  has  thrown 
herself  away." 

"  I  don't  think  that.  I  think  that  you  are  his  superior 
in  everything,  and  yet  I  think  you  made  a  fool  of  your- 
self." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  they  two  were  in  love  with  one  another,  and 
because  you  passed  by  a  girl  who  is  far  superior  to  that 
highty-tighty,  ambitious,  politics-chattering  daughter  of 
old  Cecil's. 

"  Well ;  I  know  that  now." 

"  Oh,  you  do,  do  you  ?    And  confess  yourself  a  fool  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  what  a  sublime  fool  you  will  look  if  you  allow 
Aunt  Maria  to  bully  her  into  marrying  Captain  Hertford." 

"  Charles,  you  are  mad." 

"  Raving  mad,"  said  Lord  Charles  ;  "  but  that  is  what 
the  dear  old  soul  is  after.  She  has  got  the  whip-hand  of 
Hertford  about  something,  and  he,  I  suspect,  has  got  the 
whip-hand  of  her." 

"  How  do  you  find  all  this  out  ?  "  said  Austin,  aghast. 

"  I  listen  to  the  old  women  talking,"  said  he ;  "  they 
know  a  precious  sight  more  about  it  than  you  do." 

"  Well,  but  I  can't  listen  to  the  old  women.  Tell  us 
what  you  know." 

"  There's  Tom  going,"  said  Lord  Charles  ;  "  hadn't  we 
better  get  on  with  our  Livy,  if  we  are  going  to  do  so  at  all  ?  " 

"  Come,  no  nonsense,"  said  Austin  ;  "  tell  me  what  the 
old  women  told  you." 

"  The  old  women  didn't  tell  me  anything.  But  I  want 
to  ask  you  a  question.  Why  should  not  Eleanor  Hilton 
marry  Captain  Hertford  ?  " 


"' 


Austin  Elliot 

"  Why !  why  ! "  said  Austin.  "  Do  you  want  to  drive 
me  mad !  Because  I  would  cut  the  infernal  scoundrel's 
throat,  if  he  dare  to  look  at  her.     That's  why." 

"  But  it  don't  matter  to  you.  You  have  got  no  interest 
in  her." 

"  Charles,  I  love  her." 

"  You  always  did,  I  know,  in  a  sort  of  way ;  but,  with 
the  memory  of  that  sad  affair  with  the  Right  Honourable 
the  Countess  of  Mewstone  so  fresh  on  your  heart " 

"  Don't  chaff.     The  thing  is  serious." 

"  I  know  it  is,"  said  Lord  Charles ;  "  but  tell  me  one 
thing  only.  Do  you  really  mean  that  you  will  ask  Eleanor 
to  be  your  wife  }  " 

"  I  do." 

•*  Hurrah !  Now  I'll  tell  you  I  know.  I  was  in  town 
last  night." 

"  Well,"  said  Austin. 

"  I  heard  a  conversation  between  my  mother  and  Lord 
Saltire.     You  know  Lord  Saltire  ?  " 

"  He  always  speaks  to  me,"  said  Austin. 

"  Now  then,"  continued  Lord  Charles,  "  old  Hilton 
madt  a /atix  pas,  about  some  French  business,  in  1806; 
and  every  one  cut  him,  except  your  father.  At  this  time, 
Lord  Saltire,  who  had  only  had  a  trifling  acquaintance  with 
him  before,  thought  that  he  would  follow  his  favourite 
amusement  of  flying  in  the  world's  face,  by  taking  him  up, 
saying,  that  he  had  a  profound  admiration  for  a  man  with 
so  few  prejudices,  or  some  piece  of  cynicism  of  that  kind  ; 
and  although  Hilton  saw  that  Lord  Saltire  was  only  amus- 
ing himself  by  offending  the  world,  yet  friends  were  scarce, 
and  Lord  Saltire's  humour  suited  his  own,  and  they  two 
knocked  up  some  sort  of  a  friendship." 

"  How  did  you  find  out  all  this  ?  "  asked  Austin. 

"  By  listening  to  the  old  women  at  their  gossip.  Don't 
interrupt." 

"  Just  one  moment.  Have  you  heard  Lord  Saltire  and 
her  Grace  speak  of  this  before  ?  " 

lOZ 


Austin  Elliot 

"  I  have  gathered  what  I  have  told  you  from  another 
conversation.    I  will  now  give  you  the  gist  of  the  last. 

"  Lord  Saltire  began  by  saying,  *  You  don't  know  any 
eligible  young  gentleman  who  wants  nine  thousand  a  year, 
do  you  ?  '  And  she  said,  *  there  is  Charles  listening  to  us, 
he  is  in  want  of  exactly  that  sum,'  and  then  there  was 
some  fun  about  it,  and  he  went  on.  He  said  that  Eleanor 
was,  from  some  reason,  completely  under  her  aunt's 
thumb,  and  that  Captain  Hertford  was  eternally  about 
the  house." 

"  He  is  never  there  when  I  am,"  said  Austin. 

*'  Never  mind  that.  He  is  there  when  you  ain't  there, 
which  is  much  more  important.  He  said,  that  he  had 
been  to  call  on  her,  after  what  he  had  heard,  and  that  it 
did  really  appear  to  be  true  :  that  the  poor  girl  appeared 
cowed  and  beaten,  and  that  her  aunt  seemed  a  dragon. 
But  he  said,  in  conclusion,  '  That  is  not  all :  the  girl  is  left 
utterly  friendless,  and  without  society,  with  this  enormous 
fortune,  to  the  care  of  this  old  dragon  of  an  aunt,  and  to  a 
captain  of  dragoons,  who  is  a  great  rascal.  But  what  is 
uglier  than  all  is  this  :  old  Hilton  had  a  son  who  went  to 
the  dogs  and  died,  and  the  last  man  who  knew  anything 
about  him  was  this  Captain  Hertford,  who  has  been  a 
flame  of  the  aunt's.'  Now  all  this  don't  look  over  particu- 
larly nice." 

**  Now  we  had  better  get  on  with  our  work,"  said  Aus- 
tin. 

"  By  Jove,  we  must !  "  said  Lord  Charles  ;  "  but  you 
will  let  me  know  what  you  are  going  to  do." 

"  Of  course  !  How  can  I  thank  you  enough  ?  Come 
on." 

And  on  they  went  like  young  heroes.  At  half-past 
three,  it  was  found  that  Lord  Charles's  handsome  blue  eyes 
could  not  keep  open  any  longer,  in  spite  of  coffee  and  to- 
bacco, and  that  the  curly  head  kept  tumbling  down  on  the 
"  Riddle  and  Arnold."  Austin  roused  him  up,  and  started 
him  across  Tomquad  to  his  rooms  in  Peckwater.    And 

102 


Austin  Elliot 

Lord  Charles  walked  straight  across  the  grass,  which  he 
had,  we  believe,  no  right  to  do ;  and  while  in  that  bland 
intoxicated  state,  into  which  men  get  at  three  or  four  in 
the  morning,  a  week  before  examination,  he  was  thinking 
that  there  must  surely  be  more  than  17,000  stars  visible. 
He  so  nearly  walked  into  the  pool,  or  pond,  called  Mer- 
cury, that  he  felt  it  necessary  to  sit  down,  and  congratu- 
late himself  on  his  narrow  escape. 

And  there  he  found  that  Austin's  dog,  Robin,  had  fol 
lowed  him.     He  was  glad  of  this,  for  he  could  talk  to 
Robin ;  and  Robin  was  most  charmed  by  the  whole  pro- 
ceeding, and  sat  complacently  down  by  the  stone  rim  of 
the  pond,  prepared  for  any  amount  of  conversation  ! 

"  Robin,"  said  this  silly  young  gentlemen,  "  let  us  look 
into  the  pond,  and  see  whether  we  can  tell  our  fortune." 
So  he  leant  over  the  pool,  and  saw,  at  first,  nothing  but 
the  gold  tassel  on  his  cap.  He  took  his  cap  off,  and 
looked.  Still  not  one  hint  of  the  future,  only  the  outline 
of  his  handsome  head  reflected  in  the  water.  The  stars 
were  behind  in  the  dark  blue.  Not  one  single  black  cloud 
between  him  and  them.  Oh  !  lying  stars  !  oh  !  false,  false 
water  ! 

But  the  happy,  heavy  head  fell  down  on  something,  and 
Robin  nestled  up  against  him,  and  dog  and  man  fell  fast 
asleep,  there  and  then,  in  the  middle  of  the  quadrangle. 
One  of  the  porters,  who  rose  early  to  the  let  the  scouts  in, 
saw  him  lying  there,  and  roused  him  up.  In  times  long 
after,  a  tall  gentleman,  stone-blind,  unknown  to  the  por- 
ter, but  whom  you  will  know  soon,  came  to  the  porter,  and 
asked  about  the  circumstance.  And  the  porter  took  him 
to  the  place,  and  pointed  it  out.  "  His  lordship  lay  here, 
sir,  with  his  head  on  his  dixenary,  and  Mr.  Elliot's  dog 
along  with  'un ;  and  I  thought  he'd  a  caught  his  death  of 
cold,  surely." 

"  But  it  never  hurt  him,  you  see,"  said  the  blind  stranger. 
"  Ah !   no,  poor  dear !  it  never  hurt  he.     Talk  about 
your  tufts,  he  were  a  tuft." 

103 


Austin  Elliot 


Chapter  XIV  • 

The  very  night  on  which  Lord  Charles  slept  by  Mer- 
cury, Austin,  dog-tired  as  he  was,  sat  up  and  wrote  this 
letter  to  his  father :  — 

"My  dear  Child, — 

"  If  you  don't  take  my  advice  about  having  your  razors 
properly  set  by  an  *  expert,'  the  end  of  it  will  be  that  you 
will  be  carried  off  to  Bow  Street,  and  charged  with  attempt- 
ing self-destruction.  The  last  time  I  came  into  your 
dressing-room,  you  had  an  open  razor  in  your  hand,  and 
had  hacked  your  chin  so,  that  you  were  all  in  a  gore  of 
blood.  Besides,  it  does  not  look  nice  to  go  down  to  your 
office,  with  your  face  stuck  all  over  with  patches  of  hat 
nap.     If  you  have  no  self-respect,  think  of  me. 

"  Now  attend  to  what  I  say,  and  don't  argue,  or  fuss. 
Charles  Barty  and  I  go  into  the  schools  in  five  days.  The 
responsibility  I  feel  in  leaving  you  to  take  care  of  yourself, 
will  probably  spoil  my  degree.  Don't  add  to  it,  but  obey 
me. 

"  Dear  father,  will  you  do  this  ?  Call  on  the  Hiltons, 
and  see  what  is  going  on  there.  Catch  Lord  Saltire,  and 
make  him  tell  you.  It  is  an  ugly  business.  I  don't  know 
what  to  do  —  I  trust  it  all  to  you.  Only  go  there  and 
watch  Captain  Hertford  and  Aunt  Maria. 

"  I  will  come  up  as  soon  as  the  examination  is  over.  I 
shall  not  wait  for  the  class  list.  I  may  get  a  fourth,  and  I 
may  not.  But  I  shall  be  equally  dear  to  you  either  way, 
you  self-willed  conceited  young  person." 

The  answer  was  :  — 

"  My  dear  Boy, — 
"  You  have  made  me  so  happy.     I  will  see  to  what  you 
mention.    I  thought  you  had  given  her  up;  and  I  have 
104 


Austin  Elliot 

heard  nothing  new  about  Captain  Hertford.  It  will  be 
difficult  for  me  to  get  anything  out  of  Lord  Saltire,  for  I 
hardly  know  him;  and  I  don't  think  he  likes  me:  how- 
ever, I  will  try.  I  will  watch  for  you  like  a  terrier  at  a 
rat-hole. 

"  What  care  I  what  degree  you  take  ?  Suppose  you  are 
plucked,  come  home  to  me,  my  boy,  and  I  will  teach  you 
to  forget  it.  I  had  rather,  in  fact,  that  you  did  not  take 
honours.  I  think  that  you  would  do  in  the  world  quite  as 
well  without.  Why  don't  you  slip  in  quietly  for  a  pass  }  — 
but,  by  the  bye,  it  is  too  late,  and  I  am  sorry  for  it." 

(Are  there  such  things  as  white  lies,  after  all }  This 
was  either  a  black  one  or  a  white  one,  for  the  old  man 
was  in  a  feverish  state  of  anxiety  about  his  son's  degree, 
if  it  were  only  a  fourth.) 

"  Don't  you  be  an  impertinent  young  jackanapes  about 
my  cutting  myself  shaving  ;  it  will  be  a  long  while  before 
you  do  that,  you  monkey  !  " 

Lord  Charles  Barty  and  Austin  went  into  the  schools 
devoutly  hoping  that  they  might  not  be  "  gulfed  "  (left 
among  the  pass  men).  But  diligence  and  pluck  will  do 
great  things.  Lord  Charles  and  Austin,  having  compared 
notes,  came  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  all  over  with 
them,  and  Austin  posted  off  to  his  father  with  the  cheer- 
ing intelligence  that  they  were  both  probably  "  gulfed." 
Austin  had  certainly  got  his  testamur,  and  so  had  his 
friend,  but  they  were  both  quite  hopeless  —  so  hopeless, 
that  on  the  terrible  day,  Lord  Charles  actually  went  into 
the  school's  quadrangle,  and  up  to  that  dreadful  little 
door,  and  pushed  into  the  crowd  to  hear  the  lists  read. 
He  thought  one  of  them  might  be  among  the  fourth.  So 
he  heard  the  first  Class  read  through  with  indifference, 
but  when  Class  H.  was  announced,  and  the  first  name  in 
that  Class  was  "  Barty,  Carolus,  ex  yEde  Christi,"  his  ears 
tingled  in  his  head  with  joy ;  and  when,  after  reading 
through  two  C's  and  a  D,  the  clerk  of  the  schools  came  to 
"  Elliot,  Augustinus,  ex  ^^de  Christi,"  he  sent  his  cap  fly- 
105 


Austin  Elliot 

ing  in  the  air,  and  went  fairly  mad :  Austin  and  he,  to 
their  unutterable  amazement,  had  got  seconds. 

Then  an  insane  terror  possessed  him  lest  any  one,  flying 
on  the  wings  of  the  wind,  should  carry  the  news  to  Austin 
before  himself.  So  he  posted  home  to  his  rooms,  told  his 
servant  to  pack  up  a  carpet-bag,  and  away  he  went,  after 
getting  a  most  fearful  "  jobation  "  from  the  Dean  for  dar- 
ing to  appear  in  his  presence  without  his  cap  and  gown. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  this  impertinence,  my  lord  ? 
How  dare  you  ?  " 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  sir.  I  have  got  a  second,  and  I  am 
excited." 

"  Got  a  second !  —  bah !  The  University  is  going  to 
the  — " 

"  Deuce  ?  "  suggested  Lord  Charles,  who  was  afraid  of 
something  worse. 

"  Dogs,  sir,  dogs !  How  dare  you  say  deuce  in  my  pres- 
ence !    You  can  go  down,  my  lord." 


Chapter  XV 

"  Now,  father,"  said  Austin,  the  first  night  of  his  arrival, 
**  what  have  you  observed  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  a  diligent  and  dutiful  watchman,  Austin ;  I 
have  been  there  every  day  for  six  days,  but,  unfortunately, 
I  have  observed  nothing  at  all." 

"  Then  you  think  that  the  letter  I  wrote  to  you  is  all 
nonsense  ?  " 

"  Far  from  it ;  I  think  you  are  quite  right.  I  know  that 
woman,  Maria  Hilton,  my  dear  lad  ;  I  have  known  her  al- 
most all  my  life,  and,  unless  she  has  much  altered,  she  is 
just  this  —  a  selfish,  unprincipled  shrew." 

*'  She  always  struck  me  as  being  something  of  that 
sort." 

"  I  guess,  I  need  not  tell  you  why,  that  something  of 
io6 


Austin  Elliot 

this  sort  is  the  matter.    You  know  that  she  is  indepen- 
dent ?  " 

"  No ;  I  never  knew  it." 

•'  She  had  fifteen  thousand  pounds  by  her/^/y^^r'j  will." 

"  I  did  not  know  that ;  I  always  thought  she  lived  on 
her  brother.     But  what  has  that  to  do  with  it  ?  " 

"  Silly !  it  makes  her  independent  —  it  gives  an  impu- 
dence to  her  face,  and  a  loud  tone  to  her  voice  towards 
her  little  niece,  which  she  would  never  have  if  she  were 
dependent  on  her  bounty." 

"  Good  ;  you  are  wiser  than  I." 

"  That  is  very  easy  to  be,  goose  !  Well,  she  has  sailed 
her  boat  in  troubled  waters,  and  so  has  Captain  Hertford. 
I  suspect  that  they  have  some  sort  of  mutual  confidence, 
and  that  both  of  them  would  like  to  have  the  whip-hand 
of  Eleanor  and  of  Eleanor's  six  thousand  a  year.  She  has 
no  friends  —  her  father  took  good  care  that  she  should 
have  none,  by  his  obstinate  pride  —  and  at  this  present 
moment  I  believe  the  case  stands  thus  :  —  that  Aunt  Maria 
is  trying  to  bully  and  wheedle  poor  little  Eleanor  into 
marrying  Captain  Hertford." 

"  Then,"  said  Austin,  "  I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do  —  that 
is,  you  and  I  and  Robin." 

"  And  what  is  that  ?  " 

"  Why,  we'll  go  to  Wilton  Crescent,  when  both  Aunt 
Maria  and  Captain  Hertford  are  there,  and  I  will  take  a 
thick  walking-stick  and  beat  him  about  the  head  with  it, 
while  Robin  bites  her  heels,  and  you  pull  her  nasty  old 
cap  and  wig  off,  and  chuck  them  out  of  window." 

"  I  think  that  will  be  the  best  plan,"  said  Mr.  Elliot. 
"  Then  I  will  come  with  you  at  two  to-morrow,  if  I  can 
get  away  from  the  office.  Don't  bring  too  big  a  stick,  or 
else  you  will  kill  the  man,  and  get  hung,  and  that  is  very 
disagreeable  —  there  are  always  such  a  lot  of  people  to 
stare  at  you." 

"  Then  that  plan  of  proceedings  is  settled,"  said  Austin, 
who  knew  how  his  father  loved  a  "  dry  joke." 
107 


Austin  Elliot 

"  Yes,  that  is  settled ;  don't  be  later  than  two,  and  don't 
bring  anything  thicker  than  a  malacca  cane.  Now  let  us 
change  the  subject.  Do  you  know  the  Isle  of  Ronaldsay, 
by  Jura  ?  " 

"  I  have  never  been  there,"  said  Austin,  knowing  that, 
now  his  father  had  had  his  joke,  his  real  plan  was  coming. 
"  I  know  the  song  :  — 

'  On  Jura's  heath  how  sweetly  swell 
The  murmurs  of  the  mountain  bee  ; 
How  sweetly  mourns  the  writhed  shell 
On  Jura's  shore,  its  parent  sea. ' 

Is  that  any  use  to  the  present  discussion  ?  " 

"  A  great  deal.  I  see  you  are  in  love  with  the  island, 
and  I  shall  probably  want  you  to  start  there  to-morrow 
night,  if  you  can  get  ready." 

"  Hadn't  I  better  start  to-night  ?  "  said  Austin,  very 
much  amused,  but  knowing  perfectly  well  that  his  father 
had  a  scheme  in  his  head,  and  a  good  one  too. 

"  No,  not  to-night.  Before  you  start,  I  want  to  see 
whether  Miss  Elliot,  senior,  has  any  objection  to  come  for 
a  cruise  in  the  Pelican.  She  has  two  strings  to  her  bov/, 
and  I  am  the  second  one.  She  will  probably  come,  and 
bring  her  niece.  The  Pelican  is  lying  at  Liverpool,  waiting 
to  take  me  through  the  Western  Islands.  If  Miss  Hilton 
dreams  that  you  are  to  be  one  of  the  party,  she  either 
won't  come,  or  won't  bring  her  niece.  Therefore,  I  order 
you,  as  soon  as  I  have  my  answer  to-morrow,  to  depart 
suddenly  and  secretly  to  Glasgow,  and  from  thence  to  get 
the  best  way  you  can  to  Jura,  from  Jura  to  Donaldsay. 
from  thence  across  the  Kyle  to  Ronaldsay,  and  find  out  as 
much  as  you  can  about  the  set  of  the  tide  through  the 
Sound  of  Islay  before  I  arrive  in  the  Pelican." 

"  By  Jove,"  said  Austin,  "  you  are  a  jewel." 

"  So  the  plan  of  pulling  off  Aunt  Maria's  wig  falls 
through  for  the  present,  then,"  said  Mr.  Elliot. 

"  For  the  present,"  said  Austin. 
io8 


Austin  Elliot 

"  Oh,  only  for  the  present,  of  course/'  said  Mr.  Elliot. 
"  Good  night ;  mind  your  candle  against  the  curtains." 

The  next  evening  Austin  waited  for  Lord  Charles  at 
Paddington,  for  he  knew  that  he  would  come  with  the 
news  of  the  class-list.  He  heard  the  astounding  intelli- 
gence of  his  friend's  good  fortune  and  his  own ;  and,  just 
giving  himself  time  to  tell  his  friend  the  neat  little  plan 
about  the  island  of  Ronaldsay,  he  jumped  into  a  Hansom 
cab,  and  told  the  man  to  go  to  Mortlake. 

The  man  did  not  seem  to  know  where  it  was,  so  Austin 
said,  —  "  Go  to  Putney,  then  !  " 

Now,  in  the  year  1845,  telling  a  man  to  go  to  Putney, 
was  the  same  as  telling  a  man  to  go  to  the  deuce.  And 
so  the  cabman  took  off  his  nose-bag  (or  rather,  the  horse's 
nose-bag),  and  said,  "  Bar  sell ! ''' 

"  What's  the  matter  with  the  man  ? "  said  Austin. 
"  Didn't  you  hear  me  tell  you  to  go  to  Putney  ?  " 

The  man  strapped  the  nose-bag  under  his  seat,  took  up 
the  strut,  and  mounted  the  box ;  then  he  opened  the  trap- 
door above  Austin's  head,  and  looking  down  on  him, 
said  — 

"  I  think  you  told  me  to  go  to  Putney  just  now." 

"  Confound  it !     What  is  the  matter  with  the  man  ?  " 

"  Well,  now,  look  here,"  said  the  man.  "  A  cabman 
has  his  feelings  the  same  as  any  other  man.  You,  and 
such  as  you,  may  think  that  he  ain't,  but  he  have.  And 
when  them  feelings  is  lacerated,  he  naterally  cuts  up 
rough.  I  never  said  nothink  to  you,  but  without  prover- 
cation  you  tells  me  to  go  to  Putney.  Now  I  tell  you  what 
it  is,  I'm  blessed  if  I  don't  go,  and  you  may  take  your 
change  out  of  that !  "     And  go  he  did. 

If  it  had  not  been  for  this  little  escapade  on  the  cabman's 
part,  he  would  have  started  an  instant  sooner,  and  would 
not  have  seen  Lord  Charles  walk  past  him  just  before  the 
horse  got  in  motion,  walking  between  Captain  Hertford 
and  a  man  whom  Austin  knew  as  Captain  Jackson,  a  tri- 
fling circumstance,  but  well  remembered  after.  "  Charles 
.109 


Austin  Elliot 

has  got  among  the  Tories,"  he  said  to  himself.  And  so 
Charles  had. 

We  must  pass  over  Mr.  Elliot's  sensations  on  hearing  of 
Austin's  good  fortune.  He  was  both  astonished  and  de- 
lighted. "  Good  heavens ! "  he  said  to  himself,  "  if  the 
dear  boy  has  got  a  second  with  so  little  exertion,  his  talents 
must  be  of  first-rate  order.  See  how  idle  and  giddy  that 
/ad  has  been,  by  Jove !  That  lad  can  do  anything  after 
this.  An  idle,  giddy  young  butterfly,  and  a  second  ;  by 
Jove  it  is  amazing ;  he  will  take  the  world  by  storm :  for 
—  with  his  manners,  and  temper,  and  talents,  he'll  take  the 
world  by  storm.  I  am  glad  he  was  idle ;  it  is  a  great  com- 
fort to  me  that  he  was  idle.  It  has  shown  what  he  is  made 
of.     A  second,  too  !  " 

Mr.  Elliot  either  did  not  know,  or  did  not  choose  to  re- 
member, how  painfully  Charles  had  worked,  and  he  did  not 
know  the  awful  gulf  there  was  between  Austin's  second, 
and  a  first.  Austin  would  not  have  undeceived  him  for  ten 
thousand  pounds  that  night. 

They  dined  together  alone.  If  any  young  gentleman, 
reading  these  pages,  makes  the  reflection  that  it  must  have 
been  rather  a  bore  for  Austin  to  dine  tete-a-tete  with  his 
father,  let  me  assure  him  that  on  this  occasion  it  was  not 
the  case.  Neither  of  them  bored  the  other.  Once,  just 
after  dinner,  Mr.  Elliot,  looking  across,  under  the  lamp, 
caught  Austin's  eyes  gazing  affectionately  at  him.  He 
took  no  notice,  but  Austin  looked  so  handsome,  so  good, 
so  triumphant,  that  the  good  man  went  up  to  his  dressing- 
room  for  a  moment  to  look  for  his  spectacles. 

Perhaps  that  was  the  happiest  night  of  all.  I  cannot 
say,  for  Austin  had,  from  childhood,  waded  on  breast  high 
among  summer  flowers,  and  had  hardly  known  sorrow. 
That  merry  face  had,  however,  the  capability  of  a  different 
expression  —  an  expression  of  sorrow  and  furious  anger 
combined,  such  as  one  sees  in  the  face  of  a  child  when  it  is 
what  we  call  "  very  naughty ;  "  a  look  which  at  the  same 
time  pleads  for  pity  and  hurls  defiance.  No  man  but  one 
no 


Austin  Elliot 

had  ever  seen  that  expression  on  Austin's  face,  and  that 
one  man  only  on  one  occasion.  The  man  was  Captain 
Hertford,  and  the  occasion  was  that  of  their  drive  together 
from  Tyn  y  Rhaiadr  to  Bangor. 

"  And  now,  dad,"  said  Austin,  lolling  on  the  sofa,  "  about 
—  I  beg  pardon — anent  Ronaldsay." 

"  You  ought  to  have  started  to-night,  monkey ;  and  you 
should  have,  if  you  had  got  a  beggarly  third,  or  anything 
of  that  sort.  Of  course,  I  am  bitterly  disappointed  at  your 
missing  your  first ;  and  I  think  that,  after  such  a  fiasco,  you 
had  better  get  out  of  the  way  till  people  have  forgotten  all 
about  it." 

"  Child,  child,"  said  Austin,  without  moving,  "  you  are 
out  of  your  mind  ! " 

"  I  think  it  will  be  the  best  way.  Start  for  Glasgow  to- 
morrow morning,  and  after  Glasgow  you  must  go  north 
by  post." 

"  How  many  stamps  shall  I  want  ?  " 

"  By  post,"  said  Mr.  Elliot,  scornfully,  "  and  get  across 
the  Kyle  of  Ronaldsay  in  one  of  the  fishing-boats." 

•*  Very  well,"  said  Austin ;  "  now  tell  me  this  —  What 
do  you  think  of  Eleanor  }  " 

"  You  mean  really  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  mean  really." 

"  Well !  I  think  she  has  more  determination  and 
strength  of  character  in  her  little  close-set  mouth  than  fifty 
Aunt  Marias ;  and  that  if  —  well,  if  there  is  what  you 
young  fellows  coarsely  call  a  row,  that  she  might  beat 
Aunt  Maria.  But  she  is  an  affectionate  and  sensitive  little 
thing,  and  it  will  require  something  very  much  out  of  the 
way  to  make  her  show  fight  at  all;  and  Aunt  Maria  is 
coarse  and  ill-tempered,  though  cowardly;  and  she  will 
bully  that  little  thing,  and  frighten  her  into  submission 
until  —  until  —  something  or  another  happens  to  make 
little  Eleanor  show  fight.     There." 

"  A  lame  and  impotent  conclusion,"  said  Austin.  "  Good 
night." 


Austin  Elliot 


Chapter  XVI 

All  the  coast  of  Argyleshire,  and  the  Mull  of  Cantire, 
and  the  mountains  beyond,  were  wakening  up  under  the 
same  sun  which  decorated  Ben  More  of  Ronaldsay  with 
ribs  of  gold.  Those  who  stood  on  the  rough  little  pier  in 
front  of  the  few  fishing  huts  which  make  the  village  of 
Ronaldsay,  and  looked  eastward,  saw  the  fields  on  the 
mainland  gleaming  with  the  gold  of  spring,  and  behind 
them,  a  wilderness  of  purple  mountain  flecked  and  dotted 
with  wreaths  of  silver  mist,  flying  and  dissolving  before 
the  morning  sun.  Those  who  turned  and  looked  west- 
ward saw  the  sheets  of  heath  rolling  up  into  the  great 
sharp  mountain,  embroidered  with  a  curious  fretwork  of 
bright  green  grass  from  beside  the. rocky  watercourses. 
But  whether  they  looked  east  or  west,  there  was  a  softness 
in  the  air,  and  a  gladness  in  their  hearts,  which  told  them 
spring  was  come,  and  that  the  winter,  so  terrible  to  them, 
poor  souls,  had  gone  howling  off  to  the  northward. 

The  wind  was  south,  and  the  tide  pouring  down  the 
Kyle  of  Ronaldsay,  knocked  up  a  little  sea.  And  through 
that  sea,  a  boat  with  two  sails  came  leaping,  and  springing, 
and  plunging  towards  the  shore  ;  and  when  she  was  near 
enough,  three  or  four  fine  fellows  jumped  into  the  surf,  and 
had  her  high  and  dry  in  no  time. 

And  then  from  this  boat  there  dismounted  a  young 
gentleman,  and  his  portmanteau,  and  his  dog :  the  like  of 
which  they  had  never  seen  before ;  but  the  like  of  whose 
dog,  they  had  seen  very  often  indeed.  It  was  Austin  and 
Robin.  Austin  stood,  splendidly  attired,  handsome,  good- 
humoured,  looking  among  the  surrounding  highlands; 
and  Robin  was  making  friends  with  three  or  four  collies 
exactly  like  himself,  and  half  a  hundred  short-legged  ter- 
riers. 

And  as  he  stood  upon  the  beach,  an  old  man  —  almost 


Austin  Elliot 


the  only  one  who  could  speak  English,  with  that  courteous 
independence  which  we  admire  so  much  in  the  Scotch, 
both  Highland  and  Lowland,  when  it  does  not  develop 
into  impertinence,  asked  "  what  he  could  do  for  his  hon- 
our? " 

'•  A  very  well-timed  question,  sir,"  said  Austin.  "  I  want 
to  stay  here  for  a  week." 

The  old  fisherman  at  once  did  what  Scotchmen  always 
seem  to  do  in  a  difficulty  —  sent  for  the  minister ;  and  the 
minister  did  what  Scotch  ministers  always  do  when  they 
are  sent  for  —  came. 

"  There  is  not  a  place  in  the  island  into  which  you  can 
put  your  head,  sir,  except  my  house,"  said  he  the  instant 
he  caught  sight  of  Austin,  saying  in  Gaelic  "  Take  that 
gentleman's  portmanteau  up  to  the  manse  instantly."  At 
at  all  events,  up  to  the  manse  it  went ;  shout  the  gentle- 
man, "  Hi !  "  and  "  Hold  hard  !  "  never  so  loudly. 

"  My  dear  sir,"  said  Austin, "  I  never  dreamt  of  invading 
you  like  this.  But,  to  answer  for  my  respectability,  I  have 
got  a  letter  of  introduction  from  —  " 

"  Never  mind,  sir.  Just  think  what  an  enormous  wind- 
fall an  educated  gentleman  is  to  me.  A  week  only,  said 
you,  sir  ?  " 

"  Not  more." 

"  I  would  it  were  a  year.    Are  you  in  Parliament,  sir  ?  " 

"  Not  yet,"  said  Austin,  blushing. 

"  If  you  were  I  would  ask  you  to  say  a  word  for  us  poor 
islanders,  sir.  The  winters  here  are  unco  long,  sir,  and  we 
are  very,  very  poor.  I  will  show  you  the  wonders  of  our 
island,  sir.  I  cannot  show  you  a  natural  temple,  like  Staffa, 
or  an  artificial  one,  like  lona ;  but  I  will  show  you  how  men 
can  keep  body  and  soul  together  under  very  adverse  cir- 
cumstances, and  be  patient,  honest,  and  godly  the  while. 
And  when  you  are  in  Parliament,  you'll,  may  be,  remember 
the  Island  of  Ronaldsay,  and  speak  a  word  for  the  Scottish 
poor." 

"  But  what  does  your  landlord  do  for  you  }  " 
113 


Austin  Elliot 

"  The  island  is  a  loss  to  him ;  and  who  could  be  foolish 
enough  to  pitch  money  into  these  bogs  ?  Our  place  is  in 
Canada,  I  fear.  The  winter  is  very  long,  and  we  are  very, 
very  poor." 

"  I  beg  to  call  your  attention  to  the  fact,  my  dear  sir, 
that  you  have  not  read  my  letter  from  the  Mactavish." 

*'  And  I  beg  to  observe,  my  dear  sir,  that  I  welcomed 
you  to  my  house  before  I  knew  you  had  one,"  answered 
the  minister.  "  Why,  my  dear  sir,  if  you  were  deaf  and 
dumb,  the  mere  sight  of  your  clothes  would  make  you 
welcome.  We  see  no  dyed  garments  from  Bozrah  here. 
The  Mactavish  would  pine  and  die  in  breeks,  sir." 

"  He  is  a  good  fellow,  though." 

"  He  is,  sir.  He  has  the  inexcusable  fault  of  poverty  ; 
but  that  is  nigh  his  only  one." 

•'  How  come  the  family  to  be  so  poor  ?  " 

"  An  old  story.  In  1545,  or  thereabout,  his  grandfather 
went  away  to  Edinburgh,  with  some  long-legged,  young 
Highland  chiels ;  and  he  wandered  south,  the  loon,  past 
Dunbar  and  Carlisle,  to  a  place  they  call  Derby,  or  some 
such  name.  The  daft,  rintherout  callant.  And  the  Gov- 
ernment asked  where  he  was  going,  and  he  said  to  Lon- 
don. And  so  they  hanged  him  at  Carlisle,  and  the  pres- 
ent estates  came  into  the  family  by  his  son's  wife." 

"  And  this  happened  so  long  ago  as  1545  ?  "  said  Austin, 
laughing. 

"  I  am  not  sure,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  with  a  sly 
laugh.  "  It  may  have  been  1545,  1645,  or  even  1745.  I 
am  only  sure  of  one  thing,  that  it  was  na  1845."  And,  by 
the  time  he  had  made  his  little  joke,  they  had  got  to  the 
manse. 

"  By  the  bye,"  said  the  minister,  before  going  in,  "  you 
know  that  we  had  him  here  for  two  nights  in  this  very 
house." 

"  What,  the  Pr  —  " 

"  The  Prince,  sir." 

"  Indeed ! " 

114 


Austin  Elliot 

"  Yes,  sir.  Two  nights  after  the  Stornaway  business, 
he  landed  here.  The  wind  was  strong  from  the  west, 
and  he  was  driven  across  to  Ronaldsay." 

"Yet  I  thought  I  could  have  accounted  for  every 
hour  of  his  time  between  Lewis  and  Benbecula,"  said 
Austin. 

"  A  mistake,  my  dear  sir.  I  can  show  you  the  bedroom 
where  he  slept.  —  Is  it  true  that  Sir  Robert  is  going  to 
continue  the  income-tax  in  spite  of  the  surplus  (not  that  it 
matters  to  me,  God  knows) :  and  can  you  explain  me  why  ^ 
Only  as  a  matter  of  curiosity  :  for  we  are  too  poor  here  to 
mind  income-taxes ;  but,  God  be  praised,  we  are  not  so 
poor  as  the  Donaldsay  folk." 

"  Not  so  poor  as  the  Donaldsay  folk."  Those  words 
dwelt  with  Austin.  He  had  never  seen  poverty  before, 
and  he  told  the  good  minister  so  frankly.  He  saw  enough 
now.  Chronic  poverty  and  want  of  the  most  hideous 
kind.  The  row  of  cottages,  or  rather  hovels  by  the  har- 
bour side,  were  miserable  enough ;  but  it  was  up  among 
the  little  cot  farms  in  the  hill  that  he  saw,  for  the  first 
tfme,  what  utter  poverty  meant ;  up  in  these  hovels  on  the 
hill-side,  built  with  loose  stone  (there  is  no  lime  in  Ron- 
aldsay), through  which  every  wind  of  heaven  blew,  sum- 
mer and  winter;  with  their  little  patches  of  oats  and 
potatoes.     Here,  indeed,  was  more  than  Irish  misery. 

"  We  depend,"  said  the  minister,  "  mostly  on  our  po- 
tatoes here.  Ronaldsay  is  a  cold  island,  and  oats  are 
sweer  to  ripen.     The  potatoes  here  look  nice." 

Poor  fellow  !  He  did  not  dream,  that  these  same  po- 
tatoes, their  only  hope,  would  have  turned  to  stinking 
carrion  before  August. 

As  for  Austin,  he  went  in  and  out  of  these  hovels  with 
his  friend  the  minister  all  the  first  morning ;  and  then 
began  thinking  for  himself,  perhaps  for  the  first  time  in 
his  life  :  with  what  degree  of  correctness  the  reader  must 
judge.  "  All  this  silly  windy  turbulence  in  Ireland,"  he 
thought,  "  has  origin  in  very  great  part  from  chronic 
X15 


Austin  Elliot 

poverty.  And  yet  here  are  a  race  of  men,  as  poor  as  the 
poorest  Irish,  superior  to  the  Irish  in  physique  and  intel- 
ligence, by  the  most  enormous  interval ;  a  race  who  in 
courage  and  endurance  are  notoriously  not  surpassed  in 
the  world ;  a  race  attached  to  particular  religious  tenets 
as  firmly  as  the  Irish ;  one  might  almost  say  a  priest- 
ridden  race  ;  and  yet  what  does  one  find  ?  Patience  in- 
stead of  turbulence,  manly  independence  instead  of  ser- 
vility and  an  almost  entire  absence  of  crime,  instead  of 
continued  horrible  outrages."     It  was  a  puzzle. 

"  How  do  you  account  for  it,  Mr.  Monroe,"  said  he,  ad- 
dressing the  clergyman. 

"  For  what  sir  ?  "  said  the  old  man,  looking  quietly  up. 

"  For  what  I  have  been  saying." 

"  You  have  been  saying  nothing." 

And  no  more  he  had,  but  only  thinking. 

He  apologized  and  stated  his  case. 

**  The  Irish,"  said  the  minister,  strongly,  "  are  a  priest- 
ridden  people." 

"  So  are  the  Scotch,"  said  Austin. 

"  I  wish  ye  were  just  a  minister  yersell,  ye'd  ken  how 
much  truth  there  was  in  that ;  if  ye  had  the  handling  o' 
em,  ye'd  find  na  a  thrawner  lot  than  ye  are  thinking,"  re- 
plied the  old  man  laughing.  "  But,  even  if  there  were  a 
grain  of  truth  in  your  assertion  of  their  being  priest-rid- 
den, you  must  still  allow  that  your  Scottish  minister  is  a 
superior  man  altogether  to  your  Irish  priest." 

"  Why  should  I  allow  that  ?  "  said  Austin. 

"  For  politeness'  sake,"  said  the  minister.  "  But  I  will 
tell  you  a  secret.  Not  only  are  the  Scottish  ministers  a 
higher  class  of  men  than  the  Irish  priests,  but,  what  is  of 
more  importance,  the  Scottish  population  is  as  superior  to 
the  southern  Irish  population  as  a  horse  is  superior  to  a 
donkey." 

"  That  is  a  libel,"  said  Austin. 

"  The  greater  the  truth  the  greater  the  libel.  Master  Ox- 
onian," said  the  minister. 

n6 


Austin  Elliot 

"  But  I  won't  have  it,"  said  Austin ;  "  I  have  seen  very 
noble  Irish  people." 

"  Well  then,  we  must  put  some  of  it  down  to  education. 
There  is  the  fact,  account  for  it  how  you  may." 

"  But  look  here,  my  dear  sir,"  said  Austin.  "  Can't  one 
do  anything  among  these  folks  ?  I  mean,  can  I  do  noth- 
ing? I  have  money.  If  you  were  to  point  out  proper 
cases  to  me,  couldn't  I  leave  money  with  them  ?  You 
hesitate,  because  the  lark  is  singing  overhead.  Think  of 
the  horrible  long  winter  which  will  come  on  us  so  sud- 
denly, and  then  say  whether  or  no  you  dare  refuse  my 
offer." 

"  We  are  not  beggars,  Mr.  Elliot.  We  have  no  claim 
on  you." 

"  I  tell  you  that  you  have.  These  are  the  first  poor  I 
have  ever  seen,  God  forgive  me.  I  have  no  tenantry.  I 
have  no  poor  with  more  claim  on  me  than  these  poor 
souls.  Why,  I  gave  nine  pounds  for  this  pin  which  is  in 
my  scarf,  the  other  day.     No  claim  quotha  !  " 

The  old  man  sat  silent  for  a  moment,  and  then  spoke 
low  and  quiet.  "  I  dare  not  decline  to  take  any  money 
that  you  may  leave,  Mr.  Elliot ;  no,  I  dare  not  when  I 
think  of  the  winter  which  is  coming.  I  may  never  account 
to  you  for  that  money,  but  I  will  account  to  Christ.  He 
will  be  a  more  inexorable  auditor  than  you,  Mr.  Elliot. 
You  have  guessed,  sir,  in  some  way,  what  we  want.  We 
want  money.  We  have  no  circulation  of  money.  We 
have  here  potatoes  and  oats,  every  bit  of  which  we  require, 
and  fish,  which  we  want  also  ;  but  which,  being  our  only 
staple  of  trade,  must  be  sacrificed  in  Glasgow,  to  get  cash 
for  tobacco  and  groceries.  We  have  no  circulation  of 
money.  The  Mactavish,  who  would  give  the  coat  off  his 
back,  has  to  educate  his  sons,  and  gets  no  rent  from  the 
island.  He  leaves  us  alone.  We  can  ask  no  more,  and 
have  no  right  to  ask  so  much.  But  he  sins  against  his 
tenantry  and  himself." 

"  How  ?  " 

117 


Austin  Elliot 

"  His  stomach  is  too  high  to  let  the  shootings.  It  lies 
with  you  and  him  to  make  Ronaldsay  almost  a  Paradise. 
You  are  rich.  If  you  could  persuade  him  to  let  you  the 
shootings,  and  were  only  to  live  here  three  months  in  the 
year,  it  would  make  a  wonderful  difference  in  Ronaldsay. 
You  have  no  idea  what  the  circulation  of  another  three 
hundred  pounds  a  year  in  the  island  would  be." 

**  Is  there  any  game  ?  "  asked  Austin. 

"  Not  much,"  said  the  minister,  "  at  present ;  but  \ij/ou 
would  take  the  island,  /  would  take  care  there  should  be. 
I  would  use  my  influence,  my  dear  sir.     If — " 

"  Priestcraft,"  said  Austin. 

"  You  are  a  daft  young  gentleman,  sir,  and  I  am  very 
angry  with  you.  But  listen  to  reason.  You  will  want  a 
moor  some  day ;  go  round  our  island  and  examine  its  ca- 
pabilities." 

"  I  will.  Now,  here  is  an  envelope,  which  you  must 
pledge  yourself  not  to  open  till  I  am  gone." 

This  envelope  contained  an  I  O  U  from  Austin  to  Mr. 
Monroe,  for  fifty  pounds.  The  reader  must  form  his  own 
opinion  on  this  piece  of  extravagance. 

Austin  was  there  for  ten  days,  and  before  three  days 
were  passed,  he  had  managed  by  a  careless  bonhoimnie,  or 
possibly  by  some  quality  far,  far  higher  than  that ;  to  make 
himself  beloved  by  every  one  in  the  island  whom  he  met. 
For  there  was  about  him  a  great-hearted  geniality,  which 
no  one  could  resist.  The  Duchess  of  Cheshire  had  said 
that  Charles's  new  friend  seemed  a  very  loveable  person  ; 
and  now  old  Elspie  Macdonald,  whose  grandsons  had 
been  across  to  Ireland,  hobbled  up  to  the  manse,  with  her 
dreadful  wrinkled  old  face  below  her  shoulders,  and  gave 
him  a  great  shell,  "  a  Chama  cor,"  and  refused  the  half- 
crown  that  Austin  offered  her.  Austin  knew  as  much 
about  shells  as  about  the  Rosetta  stone  or  the  Fonetic 
Nuz ;  but  he  saw  that  the  old  crone  meant  him  a  high 
compliment,  and  let  her  see  that  he  did. 

A  noble  young  kilted  Highlander  was  told  off,  by  reason 
Ii8 


Austin  Elliot 

of  his  speaking  English,  to  show  him  the  round  of  the 
island. 

"  A  remarkable  laddie,  sir,"  said  the  minister  ;  "  a 
Frankenstein  monster  of  my  ain  making.  I  was  fearful 
at  one  time  that  I  had  lent  my  hand  to  the  making  of 
a  poet ;  but  that  sin  has  been  spared  me  among  others. 
He  bolts  knowledge  in  a  brutal  and  gluttonous  way,  sir, 
without  chewing,  like  a  dog  swallowing  meat,  a  gobble 
and  a  swallow,  and  then  ready  for  more.  But  he  has  a 
dog's  digestion,  sir,  it  doesna  turn  to  wind  wi'  him,  for 
which  we  must  be  thankful.  If  ye  have  lent  your  hand  to 
pit  seven  devils  of  education  into  a  man,  ye  would  choose 
a  man  of  smaller  carcass.  For  if  such  a  one  as  Gil  Mac- 
donald  gangs  awa  among  the  tombs,  it  will  be  no  safe  for 
the  passers-by." 

So  for  eight  days  Austin  brushed  the  heather,  led  by  his 
long-legged  friend,  returning  to  the  manse  at  nightfall,  as 
happy  as  a  king,  and  as  tired  as  a  dog.  His  eight  happy 
days  were  gone  before  he  could  look  round. 

The  two  young  men,  starting  early  one  morning,  walked 
westward  through  the  great  bog,  which  fills  up  the  centre 
of  the  Island  of  Ronaldsay,  with  the  sharp  crystalline  peak 
of  Ben  More  of  Ronaldsay  right  before  them,  lying  in  a 
dark  brown  cone  above  the  mists.  And  as  they  toiled 
across  the  bog,  through  the  morning,  they  saw  that  mist 
dissolving,  curling,  brooding,  in  dark  hollows,  like  piles  of 
wool ;  rising  in  fantastic  wreaths,  which  were  melted  and 
swept  away  by  the  sea  breeze  ;  and,  as  a  last  poor  re- 
source, hiding  in  clefts  and  glens,  only  to  perish  ignomini- 
ously  before  the  steady  blaze  of  the  sun,  as  he  towered 
stronger  and  stronger  each  moment  over  the  distant  hills 
of  Argyleshire. 

So  on  through  the  bog,  until  the  heather  began  to  roll 
and  rise,  and  then  leap  up  into  scarps  and  terraces,  and 
then  run  into  long  ribs,  along  which  they  walked,  and  saw 
mirror-like  lakes,  hundreds  and  hundreds  of  feet  below. 
Some  were  perfectly  calm,  and  some  streaked  with  bands 
119 


Austin  Elliot 

of  frosted  silver,  as  the  wind,  wandering  into  the  sheltered 
corries,  caught  the  surface  here  and  there.  Then  there 
was  no  more  heather,  but  a  steep  cone  of  yellow  grass  and 
grey  stone.  And  last  of  all  the  summit  —  a  breezy  plat- 
form twelve  feet  square.  Below,  the  ocean,  with  a  hun- 
dred fantastically  shaped  islands  :  above,  the  vast  blue 
sky  :  and  around,  silence,  except  the  gentle  whispering  of 
the  south  wind  among  the  grass  stalks. 

"  Gil !  Gil !  "  said  Austin,  after  a  pause.  "  This  is  a 
glorious  country." 

"  Aye,  it's  a  braw  country,"  replied  Gil,  "  in  summer 
time.    But  we  are  unco  poor,  and  the  winters  are  very  long." 

•'  I  shall  think  of  you  in  the  long  winter  nights,  Gil,"  said 
Austin.     "  The  winter  nights  are  very  long." 

"  Aye,  indeed  they  are,  both  cold  and  long." 

**  If  you  feel  them  so,  Colin,"  said  Austin,  "  here  in  this 
free  island,  think  what  they  must  be  to  poor  prisoners, 
alone  in  jail.  Think  of  that.  Suppose  you  or  I  had  to 
spend  the  winter  in  jail,  what  should  we  do  ?  " 

"  /  should  ding  out  my  brains  against  the  wa',  and  dee 
like  a  man,"  said  Colin,  rapidly,  snatching  at  the  grass. 
"  What  gars  ye  think  such  things  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Austin,  looking  out  over  the 
sea  ;  "  the  rule  of  •  contrairy^  I  fancy.  Being  so  wild  and 
free  up  here,  half  way  between  earth  and  heaven,  makes 
one  think  of  the  other  extreme,  I  suppose." 

"  Aye,"  said  Colin,  "  if  the  gentles  are  no  miserable  by 
visitation  of  God,  it  is  forced  upon  the  puir  bodies  to  make 
themselves  miserable.  It  would  be  a  hard  business  for 
some  of  them  if  it  were  na  for  the  de'il,  who,  like  a  true 
gentleman,  is  aye  ready  to  assist  a  neighbour.  Well,  some 
amount  of  misery  is  necessary  for  the  enjoyment  of  life,  I 
suppose.  I  suppose  you  have  no  wish  ungratified  in  life, 
that  ye  make  yourself  miserable  with  thinking  of  jails  }  " 

"  I  have  one  wish,"  said  Austin. 

"  I  may  not  speir  what  it  is  1 "  said  Colin,  looking  up 
eagerly. 

1 20 


Austin  Elliot 

"  Aye,  and  get  your  answer,  my  boy.  When  wil\  the 
swallows  be  here  ?  " 

"  In  a  few  days." 

"  I  am  waiting  for  one  of  them.  A  little  house-martin, 
that  shall  be  on  my  bosom  till  one  of  us  die.  I  tried  to 
tame  a  peregrine  once,  but  she  has  soared  to  her  eyrie  and 
left  me." 

Colin  understood  him  so  perfectly  that  he  said  not  one 
word.  And  if  you  turn  on  me  and  tell  me,  that  there  are 
not  here  and  there  such  Highlanders  as  Gil  Macdonald, 
I  turn  on  you,  and  tell  you,  that  you  have  been  staring 
at  mountains,  while  you  should  have  been  studying 
men. 

So  Austin,  Gil,  and  the  dog  Robin,  sat  for  a  while  on 
the  summit  of  Ben  More  of  Ronaldsay,  and  heard  nothing 
but  the  wind  among  the  grass  stalks. 

"  There  is  not  one  cloud  in  the  sky,"  said  Austin  at  last. 

"  There  is  one,"  said  Gil.  "  I  have  been  watching  it 
this  ten  minutes.     Look  southward." 

"  By  Jove !  "  said  Austin,  "  it  is  the  smoke  of  a  steamer." 

"  The  Swallow  is  coming,"  said  Gil. 

*'  I  think  so,  indeed,  Gil,"  said  Austin,  peering  eagerly  to 
the  southward.  "  That  must  surely  be  the  Pelican.  Let 
us  hurry  down." 

And  as  they  went,  Gil  said,  "  Listen  to  me,  Mr.  Elliot. 
We  are  going  to  lose  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Austin ;  "  I  am  away  with  the  Swallow." 

"  Will  you  take  me  with  you  ?  I  will  follow  you  like  a 
dog,  for  as  long  a  time  as  you  appoint,  without  wages. 
I " 

"  Oh,  stop,"  said  Austin ;  "  don't  say  any  more.  It  is 
quite  impossible,  Gil.  I  don't  deserve  this  confidence. 
And  I  have  a  servant  already.  You  cannot  tell  how  you 
distress  me." 

"  You  should  think  twice  before  you  refuse  me,"  said 
Gil,  eagerly.  "  You  don't  know  the  Highlanders  ;  we  are 
so  cunning,  so  brave,  so  devoted.    Think  twice." 


Austin  Elliot 

"  It  is  quite  impossible.  Don't  think  me  unkind,  but  it 
is  quite  impossible." 

*•  I'll  think  of  you  in  the  long  winter's  nights,"  said  Gil. 
"  Will  ye  no  come  back  to  us  }  " 

"  Aye,  that  I  will,"  said  Austin,  eagerly. 

Gil  said  no  more.  By  the  time  they  got  to  the  town  the 
population  were  all  out  on  the  beach,  looking  at  the  Peli- 
can as  she  approached,  stemming  the  surf's  current  of  the 
Kyle  of  Ronaldsay  with  her  beautiful  sharp  bows. 

Austin  had  been  prepared  for  this.  His  portmanteau 
was  ready  packed  and  in  the  boat.  The  good  minister 
was  ready  in  the  stern  sheets,  and  two  sturdy  Highland- 
men  were  ready  to  stand  to  their  oars. 

"  Ye'U  come  back  to  us  again  ?  "  said  an  old  man,  as  he 
jumped  into  the  boat,  acting  as  spokesman  to  the  popula- 
tion. 

"  Aye,  that  I  will,"  said  Austin.     And  so  he  did. 

"  Are  we  to  say  good-bye  for  ever,  Mr.  Elliot  ?  "  said 
Mr.  Monroe,  after  they  were  in  the  boat. 

"  For  ever  !  ah,  no  !  "  said  Austin.  "  I  will  come  back 
again.     Think  of  me  in  the  winter-time." 

"  See  here,"  said  Mr.  Monroe,  "  I  have  opened  this  en- 
velope.    You  should  take  it  back.     Can  you  afford  it  ?  " 

"  Tush,  my  dear  sir,  perfectly.  If  I  cannot,  it  is  not  for 
you  to  stand  between  me  and  the  poor.  Come  on  board, 
and  let  me  introduce  you  to  my  father." 

But  the  old  man  would  not.  He  was  shy  of  strangers, 
he  said.  He  begged  Austin  would  excuse  him,  and  Austin 
did  so. 

As  the  boat  neared  the  yacht,  the  steam  was  shut  off. 
The  swell  in  the  Kyle  was  short  and  bubbling.  Before 
Austin  had  had  time  to  say  good-bye,  they  were  alongside. 
In  the  next  minute,  Robin  was  on  board,  and  the  port- 
manteau. In  the  next,  he  saw  there  was  only  Eleanor  to 
receive  him,  and  then  looking  over  the  side,  he  saw  that 
the  yacht  was  under  way,  and  that  the  boat  had  sheered 
off  for  the  shore,  dropping  astern  every  instant,  as  the 

122 


Austin  Elliot 

sturdy  rowers  plied  their  oars  in  the  short  chopping  sea, 
and  the  yacht  slid  on  against  the  current. 

Then  he  hurried  Eleanor  up  on  the  empty  quarter-deck, 
and  drawing  her  arm  through  his,  bade  her  wave  her 
handkerchief,  while  he  stood  bare-headed.  She  did  so,  and 
there  came  a  wild  cheer  from  the  shore.  Soon  after,  the 
village  was  hid  by  a  turn  in  the  Kyle,  and  that  was  the 
last  of  Ronaldsay  for  a  season. 

Gil  Macdonald  had  climbed  up  on  a  little  cliff  near  the 
end  of  the  village,  and  stood  watching  it  all,  with  his  hand 
shading  his  eyes  ;  and  then  and  there  he  determined  that 
if  Austin  did  not  come  back  in  a  year,  that  he,  Gil,  would 
go  south,  and  seek  him  again.  For  the  most  extraordinary 
thing  was,  that  our  merry,  gentle  Austin  had,  after  only 
one  week's  acquaintance,  become  a  sort  of  necessity  to  this 
noble  young  Highland  lion.  Here  had  appeared  to  Gil 
Macdonald,  fretting,  after  the  manner  of  his  nation,  in  his 
miserable  little  island  prison,  for  the  chance  to  go  forth  in- 
to the  world,  and  do  battle  with  his  peers  —  here  had  ap- 
peared to  him  a  noble  young  Englishman,  a  high-bred 
gentleman,  from  the  crown  of  his  head  to  the  sole  of  his 
foot,  in  carriage  and  dress  far  beyond  anything  Gil  had 
ever  seen  before  ;  and  yet  this  apparition  had  treated  Gil 
like  a  gentleman  and  an  equal  all  the  time  he  had  been 
with  him.  The  country  where  such  as  he  came  from 
must  be  the  country  for  a  Highland  lad  to  win  his  way  in. 
And  as  for  Austin  himself,  he  would  follow  such  a  man  as 
that  to  the  very  world's  end. 

He  felt  something  in  his  hand.  It  was  the  gold  Austin 
had  given  him.  He  almost  felt  incUned  to  throw  it  away, 
but  he  put  it  hastily  in  his  sporran  and  resumed  his 
watch. 

The  yacht  slid  round  the  farthest  black  promontory  of 
Ronaldsay,  and  the  spring  twilight  came  creeping  over 
Argyleshire  from  the  east,  till  only  the  summit  of  Ben 
More  of  Ronaldsay  had  a  faint  gleam  of  pink  on  the  side 
towards  the  sun,  who  had  now  fairly  northed  from  his 
123 


Austin  Elliot 

equinox.     But  still  Gil  stood  looking  after  the  ship,  with 
his  hand  over  his  eyes. 

We  shall  see  how  he  came  south  before  Austin  came 
north,  and  when  and  where  he  found  him. 


Chapter  XVII 

Do  you  care  for  the  man  at  the  wheel  ?  I  do  not,  one 
farthing !  Elsewhere  he  may  be  a  good  man  or  a  bad 
man,  or  may  have  eyes  or  ears ;  but  when  he  is  at  the 
wheel,  he  becomes  the  man  at  the  wheel,  and  is  not 
supposed  to  have  any  more  consciousness  of  passing 
events,  than  the  spanker-boom. 

As  a  rule,  you  will  find  that  people  do  7iot  mind  the  man 
at  the  wheel.  They  are  very  apt  to  take  uncommon  little 
notice  of  the  officer  of  the  watch,  but  of  the  man  at  the 
wheel  they  take  actually  none  whatever.  And  Austin  and 
Eleanor  on  this  occasion  never  troubled  their  heads  about 
there  being  such  a  person  in  existence ;  and  as  for  Mr. 
Slapper,  the  sailing-master,  he  was  in  the  forecastle  tele- 
graphing with  his  arms,  like  a  madman,  to  the  helmsman. 

Eleanor,  it  appeared,  had  been  taken  by  surprise.  She 
had  run  up  on  deck  without  her  bonnet ;  she  had  thrown 
a  loose  grey-hooded  cloak  (what  was  irreverently  called  in 
those  days  a  fool's-cap  and  bells)  over  her  shoulders, 
and  she  had  her  hand  on  her  head,  to  prevent  her  hair 
blowing  about.  She  looked  positively  beautiful ;  and  when 
Robin  leaped  upon  her,  mad  with  joy,  and  her  hair  got 
loose,  she  looked  more  beautiful  still. 

Three  times  they  walked  up  and  down  the  deck  in  si- 
lence ;  but  in  all  her  Majesty's  dominions  —  nay,  in  all 
the  world  —  there  were  no  two  hearts  so  light  as  theirs. 

Eleanor  spoke  first.  "  I  thought,"  she  said,  "  your  dear 
father  looked  guilty.  I  felt  sure  we  should  pick  you  up 
somewhere." 

124 


Austin  Elliot 

"  Did  Aunt  Maria  guess  ?  " 

"  Foolish  !  no,  or  we  should  not  have  been  here.  And 
how  did  you  like  Ronaldsay,  Austin  ?  " 

"  Very  much." 

"  Have  you  fallen  in  love  with  any  one  there  ?  Remem- 
ber, I  insist  on  being  told.     I  always  have  been  told." 

"  Yes,"  said  Austin,  "  I  have  fallen  in  love  at  last." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  her." 

"  You  shall." 

"  You  will  tell  me  all  about  it." 

"  Yes,"  said  Austin,  "  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it.  And, 
as  he  said  so,  he  drew  her  towards  him,  and  kissed  her ; 
and,  as  he  did  so,  his  eyes  met  hers,  and  she  saw  it  all 
now.  And  her  heart  was  filled  with  a  peaceful  happy 
content,  and  she  laid  her  head  upon  his  breast. 

She  had  won  him ;  won  him  from  all  of  them ;  the 
gentlest,  handsomest,  cleverest  man  in  all  England ;  so 
she  thought  in  her  pride.  I  should  like  to  have  seen  the 
flash  of  furious  scorn  which  would  have  come  over  that 
noble  little  face  if  ary  one  had  told  her  that  she  was 
throwing  herself  away,  and  that  with  her  vast  fortune  she 
might  have  married  an  earl.  She  was  proud  of  her  money, 
and  knew  the  value  of  it.  She  was  doubly  proud  of  it 
now.     It  would  be  Austin's. 

"  And  so  I  caught  you  all  alone,"  said  Austin. 

"  Yes,  all  alone.     Mr.  Elliot  is  in  the  cabin." 

"  He  is  most  impertinent  and  disrespectful,"  said  Austin. 
"  He  should  have  been  on  deck  to  receive  me.  How  dare 
he  ?     Where  is  Aiint  Maria  ?  " 

"  Oh,  good  gracious,"  said  Eleanor,  eagerly,  "  haven't 
you  heard  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  have  heard,"  said  Austin.  "  The  sea- 
gulls and  cormorants  told  me,  while  I  was  at  Ronaldsay. 
But  I  shouldn't  mind  hearing  your  story;  for  they  all 
spoke  at  once,  and  quarrelled,  and  contradicted,  and  I 
couldn't  make  out  the  truth  of  it." 

"  Why,"  said  Eleanor,  "  the  day  before  yesterday,  she 
125 


Austin  Elliot 

was  scolding  old  James  on  deck,  and  he  answered  her  just 
as  she  was  at  the  top  of  the  companion,  and  she  turned 
on  him  in  her  lofty,  imperious  way,  and  she  caught  her 
foot  on  the  sill,  and  down  the  ladder  she  went,  head  over 
heels,  and  she  has  bumped  and  bruised  herself  all  over." 

"  Has  she  hurt  herself  much  ?  " 

"  No ;  but  she  is  terribly  cross.  She  sent  for  your 
father  to  her  bedside,  and  requested  him  to  put  her  on 
shore  on  a  desert  island,  with  a  week's  provisions,  and 
some  beads  and  tomahawks.  For  she  said,  that  might 
possibly  purchase  the  forbearance  of  savages,  although 
she  could  not  that  of  a  pampered  and  ungrateful 
domestic." 

"  She  is  afraid  of  old  James,"  said  Austin. 

"  I  know  she  is  ;  and  I  am  afraid  of  her." 

"  You  must  not  be,"  said  Austin. 

"  But  I  am,  and  I  shall  be.  You  don't  know  what  a 
terrible  woman  she  is.  Sometimes  only,  she  is  violent. 
But,  at  ordinary  times,  she  has  a  continuous  voluble  way 
of  scolding,  which  is  more  dreadful  still.  She  does  not 
raise  her  voice,  but  goes  on  for  half  an  hour  together,  in- 
dignantly asserting  her  own  case,  from  different  points  of 
view,  until  I  am  confused  and  frightened.  Any  statement 
of  my  case  only  makes  her  go  over  the  old  ground,  a  note 
higher,  for  another  half-hour.  She  can  fairly  scold  me 
into  submission.  And  I  warn  you  that  I  am  completely 
and  utterly  in  her  power.  When  she  takes  to  scolding  me 
in  that  way  I  have  neither  temper  nor  courage  to  oppose 
her.     Remember  this." 

Austin  reflected  for  a  moment.  I  am  glad,  he  thought, 
that  old  James  forms  part  of  that  household.  "  Eleanor," 
said  he,  "  do  you  know  who  old  James  is  }  " 

"  Very  well.  He  was  a  shoeblack-boy,  whom  my  father 
picked  up  out  of  the  streets  for  charity.  They  were  nearly 
the  same  age.  He  came  to  be  his  servant  when  they  were 
both  sixteen.  He  was  at  the  taking  of  the  Bastile  with  my 
father  and  Lord  Liverpool." 

126 


Austin  Elliot 

"  It  might  be  considered  only  decently  polite,"  said 
Austin,  "  if  I  were  to  go  and  see  my  father." 

"  And  I  ought  to  go  to  Aunt  Maria." 

*'  She  will  be  in  a  pretty  way  when  she  hears  of  this," 
said  Austin. 

"  Of  what  ?  "  said  Eleanor. 

"  Of  my  having  proposed  to  you,  and  of  your  having  ac- 
cepted me,"  said  Austin.  At  which  Eleanor  ran  away, 
and  Austin  went  down  to  see  his  father. 

Mr.  Elliot  was  sitting  in  the  old  place,  at  the  head  of 
the  cuddy  table,  over  his  maps  and  plans,  and  Austin  said, 
"  Well,  young  fellow." 

And  Mr.  Elliot  said,  "  Aunt  Maria  has  tumbled  down 
the  companion,  and  abraded  herself." 

"  And  I  have  proposed  to  her  niece,  and  have  been  ac- 
cepted," said  Austin.  "  Come  on  deck,  and  let  me  see 
your  dear  old  face  by  sunlight." 

So  the  father  and  son  went  on  deck,  in  the  spring  twi- 
light, as  the  yacht  sped  out  from  the  Kyle  of  Ronaldsay, 
into  the  more  open  sea  beyond,  towards  South  Uist  and 
Benbecula.  The  man  at  the  wheel  may  have  smiled  at 
the  little  passages  he  may  have  noticed  between  Austin 
and  Eleanor ;  but  he  did  not  smile  when  he  saw  Mr. 
Elliot's  arm  round  Austin's  neck,  and  the  two  heads,  one 
so  old  and  the  other  so  young,  bent  down  together  in  con- 
sultation. 

And  so,  through  the  long  spring  evening,  the  steamer 
throbbed  on  her  peaceful  way,  against  the  current,  through 
the  Kyle  of  Ronaldsay.  Right  and  left,  the  rocky  shores 
stooped  down  into  the  green  sea  water,  and  everywhere 
land  and  water  were  divided  by  a  slender  thread  of  silver 
surf.  In  one  place  the  rocks  came  down  grey,  wrinkled, 
and  bare,  clothed  for  the  last  few  feet  only  with  a  band  of 
black  sea-weed.  In  another  the  rock  was  less  abrupt,  and 
partly  feathered  with  ivy  and  yew,  and  here  and  there  a 
pleasant  lawn  of  short  green  turf.  In  some  places  the 
rock  fell  away  altogether,  and  a  sheep-cropped,  limestone 
127 


Austin  Elliot 

down,  came  rolling  and  sweeping  to  the  sea,  which  here 
was  bounded  by  a  half-moon  of  bright  yellow  sand.  In 
one  place  there  was  a  large  fishing  village,  of  white- 
washed stone  cottages,  where  the  women  sat  at  the  doors 
netting  nets,  and  the  old  men  were  hobbling  about  tinker- 
ing old  boats,  and  where  the  boys  cheered  them,  and  ran 
bare-legged  along  the  shore.  And,  soon  after,  they  met 
the  able-bodied  men  of  this  village,  in  their  fishing-boats, 
drifting  homewards  on  the  tide.  In  one  place,  along  this 
beautiful  strait,  there  was  a  flock  of  sheep,  feeding  high 
overhead,  watched  by  a  little  Highland  laddie,  whose  dog 
barked,  and  ran  to  and  fro  when  he  saw  the  ship,  and 
whose  bark  was  joyously  echoed  by  happy  Robin,  from 
the  deck.  And,  at  another  place,  there  was  a  wee  bit  kirk 
and  a  manse,  on  the  hill-side,  with  the  minister  out  in  his 
garden,  who  took  off  his  hat  to  them,  and  whose  courte- 
ous salute  they  returned  as  the  ship  sped  on. 

"  A  happy  land,  Eleanor,"  said  Austin ;  "  a  land  of 
settled  faith,  of  intelligence,  of  truth,  and  of  order  ;  a  land 
not  so  over-populated  but  that  the  best  men  may  be  recog- 
nised and  revered.     Would  you  like  to  live  here  }  " 

"  I  would  live  anywhere  with  you,  Austin,  even  in 
Italy." 

And  at  night,  as  the  sun  went  down  in  the  west,  the 
ship  began  to  plunge,  and  then  to  roll,  and  she  plunged 
and  rolled  under  the  reeling  stars,  across  the  water  which 
lay  between  the  Kyle  of  Ronald  say  and  Benbecula,  for 
the  south  wind,  blowing  steadily,  met  the  tides  pouring 
southward  through  the  sleat,  and  the  sea  was  heavy. 

Eleanor  and  Austin  walked  the  deck  until  the  stars 
came  out,  and  the  ship  began  to  dive  and  leap,  and  send 
sheets  of  spray  flying  to  leeward,  and  then  she  went  be- 
low. The  steward  was  superintending  the  laying  of  a 
cloth  for  supper.  Mr.  Elliot  was  in  his  own  cabin;  so 
Eleanor,  with  an  anxious  look,  feeling  that  her  time  was 
come,  that  there  was  no  one  to  delay  and  gossip  with, 
made  towards  Aunt  Maria's  cabin. 
12S 


Austin  Elliot 

Aunt  Maria  was  sitting  up  in  her  bed,  with  her  maid 
beside  her.  She  was  in  an  ill  temper,  and  her  coarse 
violent  face  looked  more  coarse  and  violent  than  ever. 
There  was  something  worse  than  coarseness  or  violence 
in  those  deep-sunk  eyes  and  knotted  eyebrows,  but  no  one 
saw  it  as  yet. 

"  Aunt,  dear,"  said  Eleanor,  "  what  shall  I  bring  you 
for  supper  ?  " 

"  You  wicked  girl !  "  said  Aunt  Maria  ;  "  you  miserable 
girl !  So  your  lover  has  come  on  board,  has  he  ?  So  all  this 
voyage  was  a  settled  plan  between  old  Elliot  and  you  to 
meet  this  profligate  young  idiot  at  Ronaldsay  !  Oh,  how 
I  do  hate  meanness  and  ingratitude !  And  look  at  the 
low  meanness  of  this  proceeding !  and  then,  when  you 
have  reflected,  if  you  can  reflect,  on  all  that  I  have  done 
for  you,  think  of  the  ingratitude  !  " 

What  Aunt  Maria  had  done  for  Eleanor  was  —  to  live 
at  her  expense  to  save  her  own  income,  and  to  worry  her 
life  out.  Eleanor  ^^ew  this.  But  in  the  presence  of  this 
scolding  woman,  with  her  straight  overhanging  upper  lip, 
her  bushy  eyebrows,  and  her  deep-set  eyes,  she  began  to 
feel  guilty ;  she  was,  as  she  told  Austin,  a  coward,  and 
she  said  nothing. 

"  How  long  has  he  been  on  board  ?  "  snarled  Aunt  Ma- 
ria ;  "  and  what  has  he  said  to  you  ?  " 

"  He  has  been  on  board  about  four  hours.  Aunt,"  said 
Eleanor ;  "  as  to  what  he  has  said  to  me,  all  I  care  for  is 
this  —  he  has  proposed  to  me  and  I  have  accepted  him." 

"  And  you  have  dared  ?  "  said  Aunt  Maria,  furiously. 

"  Yes,"  said  Eleanor,  quietly.  "  I  have  dared  ;  I  dare 
do  anything  when  he  is  beside  me.  If  you  can  get  me 
away  from  him  you  may  do  anything  with  me.  I  am 
afraid  of  you,  and  you  know  it ;  bwt  you  are  afraid  of  htm 
and  of  his  father." 

"  Then  you  have  accepted  this  boy,  you  wretched  girl ! " 
said  Aunt  Maria. 

••  I  have,  Aunt." 

129 


Austin  Elliot 

"  And  Captain  Hertford." 

"  Captain  Hertford  !  "  cried  Eleanor,  the  warm  French 
blood  of  her  mother  coming  to  her  help,  "  that  villain ! 
that  blackleg!  How  dare  you  couple  my  name  with 
his  ?  " 

"  How  dare  I,  you  silly  girl  ?  " 

"  Aye,  how  dare  you  !  You  would  like  him  to  get  pos- 
session of  me,  and  then,  by  his  sheer  brutality,  to  get  the 
management  of  my  nine  thousand  a  year  —  you  would  like 
that !  " 

"  I  think  you  want  guiding,  child ;  but  you  are  out  of 
your  mind  to  talk  to  me  like  that." 

"  I  am  not.  You  and  I  and  Captain  Hertford  are 
bound  together  by  a  tie  of  deep  disgrace ;  no  one  knows 
the  truth  but  we  three.  Now,  I  am  a  coward,  but  I  am 
no  fool  —  if  you  press  me  with  that  man's  attentions  I 
will  tell  Austin  everything." 

"  Yo2t  tell  him  !  "  said  Aunt  Maria,  scornfully  ;  **  suppose 
/  were  to  tell  him  }  " 

"  In  that  case,"  said  Eleanor,  "  he  and  I  should  be  mar- 
ried just  the  same  ;  only,  if  I  know  the  chivalrous  soul  of 
the  man,  more  quickly  than  if  you  held  your  tongue.  And 
in  this  case  also,  our  secret  would  be  worthless.  You 
would  be  turned  out  of  our  house  —  you  would  have  to 
live  on  your  fifteen  thousand  pounds,  and  Captain  Hertford 
would  have  to  live  on  you  !  " 

"  Then,"  said  Aunt  Maria,  scornfully,  "  if  you  have  this 
hold  over  us,  why  not  get  rid  of  us  at  once  ?  Why  not 
tell  him  .>" 

"  Because  he  is  going  into  public  life  —  because  I  should 
ruin  him  by  hanging  such  a  chain  round  his  neck." 

"  You  are  a  fool !  "  said  Aunt  Maria  ;  "  there  is  hardly 
a  public  man  in  the  country  without  his  skeleton.  Tell 
him :  I  defy  you !  You  know,  if  you  told  him,  he  would 
not  marry  you  ;  that  is  the  truth  !  " 

"  It  is  not  the  truth,  Aunt  Maria.  You  are  like  all  en- 
tirely worldly  people,  one-half  of  you,  a  very  foolish  person ; 
130 


Austin  Elliot 

you  calculate  only  by  the  lowest  motives,  and  never  take 
higher  motives  into  consideration.  Austin  is  a  pure,  noble, 
high-minded  man,  utterly  incapable  of  anything  mean,  and 
I  also  am  acting,  I  believe,  on  the  highest  motives,  in  keep- 
ing this  disgraceful  secret  from  him.  He  would  marry  me 
to-morrow  if  he  knew  it.  But  he  shall  not  know  it,  for 
he  would  never  have  the  same  fearless  pride  as  he  has  now 
if  he  knew  it." 

*•  If  he  marries  you  he  shall  know  it,  and  all  the  world 
besides !  " 

"  I  think.  Aunt,"  said  Eleanor,  quietly,  "  that  it  will  be 
better  for  you  not  to  break  with  me,  and  my  devoted  old 
Squire,  James ;  I  think  it  will  be  better  for  you ! "  and 
without  waiting  for  Aunt  Maria's  reply  she  left  the  cabin. 


Chapter  XVIII 

This  was  the  last  voyage  of  the  good  old  Pelican  under 
her  present  master  ;  what  has  become  of  her  now  I  know 
not.  I  have  not  even  heart  to  inquire  whether  or  no  she 
is  still  used  as  the  yacht  of  the  Secretary  to  the  Shoals  and 
Quicksands.  Those  who  loved  every  timber,  plank,  and 
bolt  in  her,  sail  in  other  ships  now.  Our  interest  in  them 
was  the  connecting  link  between  us  and  the  ship,  and 
when  they  leave  her,  our  interest  in  the  ship  must  cease. 
She  becomes,  as  far  as  this  story  is  concerned,  only  a  mass 
of  wood  and  iron. 

In  life  it  is  not  so.  Our  affection  for  a  ship  one  has 
once  known  well,  is  similar  to  our  affection  for  a  house  one 
has  once  lived  in,  but  intensified.  Only  last  year,  I  went 
down  to  the  East  India  Docks,  and  I  came  across  the  Or- 
well. It  was  like  meeting  an  old  friend.  There  was  a 
board  which  said  that  I  must  not  go  on  board,  and  a  stew- 
ard, who  tried  to  prevent  me,  until  I  said  I  knew  her, 
upon  which  he  yielded  at  once,  and  let  me  go  over  the  old 

131 


Austin  Elliot 

deck,  from  stem  to  stern.  It  is  hard  when  on  board  a  ship 
in  the  docks,  standing  so  unmoveably  still,  to  realize  that 
one  has  seen  those  steady  tapering  masts  sweeping  wildly 
across  the  blotched  stars :  or  those  sharp  bows  leaping 
madly  up  towards  heaven  in  the  agony  of  the  storm :  to 
recall  the  reeling,  and  rolling,  and  plunging,  of  the  vast 
inert  mass  under  one's  feet,  now  resting  so  quietly  from 
her  labour. 

Before  the  morning  dawned  the  Pelican  had  threaded 
her  way  through  the  intricate  channel  between  North  Uist 
and  Benbecula,  and  was  steaming  easily  along  under  the 
cliffs  of  the  latter  island,  and  about  nine,  a  preventive  boat 
came  off,  and  Mr.  Elliot  went  on  shore  in  her. 

"  The  glass  is  dropping,  sir,"  said  the  sailing-master, 
"  and  it  is  banking  up  to  the  west." 

"  Make  haste,  father,"  said  Austin ;  "  don't  be  long. 
The  glass  is  really  falling  very  fast." 

"  Them  as  wants  to  know  about  dropping  glasses,"  said 
a  voice  behind  Austin,  "  should  take  my  place  (and  Lord 
amighty  knows  they're  welcome  to  it),  and  then  they'd 
know  what  it  meant.  Them  huzzies  of  ours  is  always  at 
it.  Why  I  dreamp  last  night  as  I  see  the  hull  bilin  of  'em 
come  down  the  kitching  stairs,  one  atop  of  the  other,  with 
no  less  than  six  dozen  of  pipe-stemmed  wines,  and  all  the 
cut  custards." 

"  The  young  women  do  break  a  great  deal  of  glass,  I 
suppose,  Mr.  James,"  said  the  good-natured  sailing-master. 

"  Ah  ! "  said  James  ;  "  I  believe  you  there.  They  gets  a 
tittling  one  another  on  the  stairs,  and  down  they  goes. 
And  out  she  comes  in  her  dirty  old  flannel  dressing-gown, 
and  gives  'em  all  warning  over  the  banisters.  She's  been 
a  trying  falling  down  stairs  herself,  now ;  but  I  ain't  hearn 
of  anybody  giving  she  warning." 

This  strong  personal  allusion  to  Aunt  Maria  forced 
Austin  to  stop  a  silent  internal  laughter,  which,  like  Mr. 
Weller,  he  was  trying  to  "  come,"  and  turn  round. 

"  Well,  James,  how  are  you  ?  "  said  he. 
132 


Austin  Elliot 

"  Breaking  up  rapidly,  sir ;  and  thank  you  kindly,"  said 
James. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hear  that,"  said  Austin,  with  perfect 
gravity. 

The  old  man  was  going  to  make  some  cynical  reply; 
but  he  looked  round  and  saw  they  were  alone  :  his  whole 
manner  changed  at  once. 

"  Master  Austin,  my  dear,"  he  said ;  "  I  see  you  and  she 
on  deck  last  night.     Is  it  all  as  we  should  wish  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  James,"  said  Austin. 

"  I  thought  so,"  said  he.  "  Now  you  mind  an  old  rogue, 
and  you  keep  close  to  her.  It  would  be  a  good  thing  for 
s/ie  (the  old  man  so  cordially  hated  Aunt  Maria  that  he 
never  named  her  if  he  could  help  it),  if  she  could  bully 
Miss  Eleanor  into  marrying  Captain  Hertford,  and  then 
that  the  pair  on  'em  should  have  the  bullying  and  bally- 
ragging  of  nine  thousand  a  year.  That  would  be  a  good 
thing,  hey ! " 

"  It  will  never  happen,"  said  Austin. 

"  You  mind  it  don't,"  said  the  old  man,  and  walked  for- 
ward, leaving  Austin  musing. 

The  glass  was  dropping  very  fast,  and  it  was  clouding 
rapidly  up,  from  the  south-west.  Lunchtime  passed,  and 
Mr.  Elliot  was  still  on  shore :  they  began  to  get  impatient. 
They  could  see  him  through  their  glasses,  walking  about 
the  lighthouse,  looking  into  everything,  directing  here, 
consulting  there,  as  if  time  were  not  of  the  slightest 
value. 

"  By  Jove,  sir,"  said  the  sailing-master  to  Austin,  "  I 
wish  we  had  ten  miles  more  sea  room.  Boatswain,  run 
up  second  pennant  and  3474." 

It  was  done.  Mr.  Elliot  was  seen  to  notice  it  for  an  in- 
stant, and  then  turn  away.  He  put  up  a  cross  staff  in  the 
middle  of  the  lighthouse-keeper's  potato  garden,  and  then 
sent  a  preventive  man,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away,  to  the  top 
of  a  hill,  to  get  a  line  between  the  lighthouse  and  a  sunk 
rock. 

133 


Austin  Elliot 

The  sailing-master  took  a  sharp  turn  on  the  deck,  and 
muttered  something.    "  Run  out  that  gun  and  fire  it." 

Mr.  Elliot  did  mind  the  gun.  He  came  down  to  the 
beach  with  provoking  deliberation,  and  at  last  got  into  the 
boat ;  before  he  reached  the  ship,  two  sharp  squalls  had 
passed  singing  through  the  rigging,  and  a  third,  fiercer 
than  either  of  the  others,  swept  over  her  as  he  scrambled 
on  deck.  There  was  scarce  time  to  cast  the  boat  off,  be- 
fore the  storm  was  upon  them  in  all  its  fury.  They  were 
relieved  by  seeing  the  boat  cast  up  on  shore,  with  her  crew 
safe ;  then  they  had  to  think  of  themselves.  The  blast 
was  so  terrible  and  violent,  that  the  yacht,  although  steam- 
ing ahead  at  full  speed,  was  making  no  way  at  all,  and 
the  rocks  of  Benbecula  not  half  a  mile  to  leeward. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  have  been  very  remiss,"  said  Mr.  Elliot, 
as  he  walked  away  aft,  and  the  sailing-master  followed  him. 

•'  Dare  you  run  for  the  lee  of  Monach  ?  "  said  Mr.  Elliot. 

"  We  should  be  broadside  on  to  Grimness  in  ten  min- 
utes, sir,"  said  the  sailing-master. 

*'  Then  God  forgive  me,"  said  Mr.  Elliot,  and  went  to 
his  cabin. 

He  had  certainly  staid  too  long.  Even  now  at  four 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon  they  were  steaming  for  bare  life, 
and  it  seemed  losing  ground  ;  the  night  was  coming  on, 
and  the  gale  was  increasing. 

All  that  steam  and  iron  could  do,  backed  by  a  steady 
Scotch  head  to  manage  them,  would  be  done;  but  the 
storm  was  too  strong  for  them,  and  the  rocks  were  close 
to  leeward  ;  their  danger  was  very  imminent.  Mr.  Elliot 
and  the  sailing-master  knew  it,  and  Austin  guessed  at  it. 

Eleanor,  seeing  Austin  look  so  calm,  was  not  frightened 
—  or  at  least  did  not  show  it.  She  staid  on  deck  with  him 
through  all  the  furious  turmoil.  They  were  wrapped  in 
the  same  plaid ;  and,  in  spite  of  the  rush  and  boom  of  the 
seas,  and  the  scream  of  the  cordage,  each  could  hear  every 
word  spoken  by  the  other  as  plain  as  though  they  were 
walking  together  in  a  garden  on  a  summer  afternoon. 

134 


m 


Austin  Elliot 

At  last  Eleanor  went  down,  not  long  after  dark.  She 
looked  into  her  aunt's  cabin.  That  good  lady  was  sleep- 
ing quietly,  unconscious  of  all  danger;  and  so  Eleanor 
went  to  her  own  cabin  and  lay  down. 

She  had  looked  into  the  main  cabin,  and  seen  Mr. 
Elliot  busy  with  his  papers  and  charts.  She  was  quite  re- 
assured, and  slept  peacefully.  But  Mr.  Elliot  was  not  busy 
with  his  papers  —  far  from  it.  He  was  quite  enough  of  a 
sailor  to  know  their  extreme  danger.  When  Eleanor 
passed  into  her  cabin,  he  was  leaning  his  head  on  his 
hands,  and  anxiously  musing.  Presently  the  sailing-master 
came  into  the  cabin  and  spoke  to  him. 

"  She  is  actually  making  leeway  at  times,  sir,"  said  he. 
"  As  the  sea  gets  up  she  will  make  more.  The  danger  is 
very  extreme,  sir." 

"  And  no  anchorage  ?  "  said  Mr.  Elliot.  "  If  we  could 
only  bite  ground,  we  might,  by  steaming  at  anchor, 
weather  it." 

'•  We  are  in  blue  water,  sir,"  said  the  sailing-master. 
"  If  there  is  no  change  it  will  be  all  over  in  an  hour." 

"  And  all  my  fault,"  said  Mr.  Elliot. 

"  Nonsense,  sir.     You  were  detained  ashore  by  duty." 

"  Well,  let  us  say  so,"  the  old  man  replied.  "  It  will  be 
all  over  in  an  hour  }  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  thereabouts,"  said  the  sailing-master. 

When  he  was  gone,  the  old  man  lay  down  his  head  and 
prayed.  He  prayed  for  his  son  Austin  ;  that  such  a  noble 
young  life  should  not  be  cut  off  untimely,  through  his  own 
carelessness.  If  he  had  seen  a  little  further  into  the  future, 
perhaps  he  might  have  prayed  that  it  might  all  be  over 
now,  and  that  Austin  and  he  might  sleep  together  under 
the  wild  fretting  waves  of  the  Atlantic,  and  be  spared  the 
evil  to  come. 

The  brave  little  ship  was  leaping  madly,  and  creaking 
in  every  timber;  and  underneath  him  where  he  sat  the 
screw  was  spinning  and  clanking  and  buffeting  the  wild 
waters :   sometimes  coming  half  out  of  water,  with  an 

135 


Austin  Elliot 

angry  jerking  hiss ;  and  then  throbbing  bravely  and  dili- 
gently at  its  work  ten  feet  below  the  surface.  It  was  a 
mad  fight  between  winds  and  waves  on  the  one  hand,  and 
iron  and  steam  on  the  other,  and  he,  and  all  dear  to  him, 
were  the  prize. 

The  noise  was  so  great  that  he  could  hear  no  one 
approach  him.  A  hand  was  laid  on  his  arm,  and  he 
started  and  looked  up.  Then  he  stood  up  altogether,  and 
looked  with  astonishment  at  the  figure  by  his  side. 

It  was  Aunt  Maria.  But  she  did  not  look  as  he  had 
ever  seen  her  look  before.  She  wore  the  dirty  flannel 
dressing-gown  which  that  impudent  old  fellow  James  had 
mentioned,  but  on  her  head  was  a  brilliantly  gay  cap,  full 
of  flowers,  and  in  her.  hand  she  clutched  an  ivory  fan, 
which  she  held  upside  down.  But,  startling  as  her  dress 
was,  it  was  her  face  that  startled  Mr.  Elliot  most.  Her 
thick  bushy  eyebrows  almost  concealed  her  deep-sunk 
small  eyes  —  and  those  eyes  did  not  appear  very  steady ; 
—  and  her  complexion,  usually  such  a  deep  red,  was  now 
a  dull  sickly  yellow. 

Mr.  Elliot  had  been  in  many  lunatic  asylums  in  his  life, 
but  neither  he,  nor  any  other  man,  ever  went  into  one  yet 
without  seeing  a  middle-aged  lady  there,  who  was  uncom- 
monly like  Aunt  Maria,  as  she  stood  before  him  this  night 
in  his  cabin. 

He  rose,  in  his  alarm,  and  looked  keenly  at  her,  trying 
to  catch  her  eye.  Hers  would  not  meet  his,  but  she  broke 
silence  first,  in  a  hoarse  unequal  voice. 

"  I  heard  every  word  that  your  sailing-master  said  to 
you  just  now.  I  know  that  in  an  hour  we  shall  all  be  — 
all  be  drowned." 

"  I  hope  not,"  said  Mr.  Elliot,  politely.  "  The  ship  is  in 
danger  of  going  ashore,  certainly,  but  there  is  every 
chance  for  us,  Miss  Hilton." 

"  Nonsense  ! "  said  she,  catching  his  eyes,  and  dropping 
hers  again  at  once.  "  I  know  that  the  end  of  us  all  is 
near.  I  curse  the  day  when  you  deluded  me  into  this 
136 


Austin  Elliot 

voyage,  that  your  scatterbrained  son  might  make  love  to 
my  niece,  and  have  her  money.  Do  you  know  what  you 
have  done  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Elliot,  looking  steadily  at  her. 

"  I  will  whisper  to  you."  And  she  whispered  to  him, 
and  his  face  grew  a  little  graver  as  she  spoke. 

"Now  what  do  you  say 7  If  by  any  chance  we  were  to 
be  saved,  would  you  break  off  the  match  }"  " 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Elliot.  "  In  the  first  place,  it  don't  affect 
the  property.     I  am  an  executor,  and  I  know  that." 

"  I  thought  you  had  set  your  heart  on  your  son's  public 
career  ?  " 

"  So  I  have." 

"  It  will  be  a  noble  one  with  that  round  his  neck." 

"  He  and  I  may  have  our  own  opinion  about  that. 
Why,  if  you  believe  that  we  are  all  to  be  drowned  in  an 
hour,  do  you  tell  me  this  ?  " 

"  Because  I  hate  you  ;  —  because  I  always  hated  you  ! " 

"  Always  ?  "  said  Mr.  Elliot. 

"  No,"  she  said,  fiercely,  "  I  loved  you  once.  How  dare 
you  remind  me  of  it  ?  I  showed  it,  and  that  was  my  fault. 
I  always  hated  you,  and  Jenkinson,  since  that  day  when 
I  heard  you  laughing  at  me.  How  dare  you  !  I  came  to 
tell  you  this  because  I  believe  that  you  have  not  an  hour 
to  live,  and  that  I  thought  it  would  annoy  you." 

"  May  God  forgive  you  as  I  do,  Maria,"  said  the  old 
man. 

She  turned  to  go. 

"  Won't  you  say '  good-bye,'  Maria,  for  old  times'  sake  ?  " 
said  Mr.  Elliot. 

Aunt  Maria  would  not  go  so  far  as  that,  but  she  came 
half  way.  She  burst  into  a  wild  wail ;  she  broke  her  fan 
into  a  hundred  pieces,  said  that  she  was  a  miserable,  ugly, 
mad  old  woman,  who  had  never  had  justice  done  her  by 
those  she  had  loved,  and  so  went  weeping  and  wringing 
her  hands,  back  to  her  cabin. 

"  Poor  thing ! "  said  good  old  Mr.  Elliot.     "  I  wish  I 

137 


Austin  Elliot 

could  get  her  out  of  Hertford's  clutches.  Small  chance  of 
that !  I  must  tell  Austin  all  this  some  day,  that  is  clear, 
but  not  yet.  His  love  is  a  little  too  young  to  stand  it  yet  ; 
I  shall  wait  till  she  has  become  a  necessity  to  him.  By- 
the-bye,  I  forgot  we  are  all  going  to  the  bottom  ;  we  shall 
be  ashore  on  Benbecula  in  half  an  hour." 

But  when  Mr.  Elliot  said  this  it  was  nearly  twelve  o'clock 
at  night,  and  the  yacht,  so  far  from  toiling  on  to  the  coast 
of  Benbecula,  was  driving  (that  is  supposing  her  to  go 
clear  of  the  stage  of  Broad-harran,  Lion's-head,  and  Eagle- 
island,  which,  as  every  school-boy  knows,  are  the  furthest 
projections  of  the  county  Mayo,  in  Ireland,  to  the  west)  — 
was  driving,  I  say,  straight  towards  that  part  of  the 
Atlantic,  where  I  am  inclined  to  place  the  still  undis- 
covered island  of  St.  Borondon :  in  spite  of  the  impudent 
lies  of  Marco  Verde,  before  the  worthy  Pedro  Ortez  de 
Funez,  inquisitor  of  the  Grand  Canary;  who  ought  to 
have  fried  him  in  a  frying-pan,  for  insulting  the  Holy  Office 
with  his  cocks  and  bulls.  And  how  it  came  that  the  good 
Pelican  had  turned  her  tail  SW.  by  S.,  I  will  tell  you  in  a 
few  words,  before  we  bid  her  good-bye  for  ever. 

Austin,  finding  the  deck  untenable,  for  the  driving  spray, 
bethought  him  of  the  engine-room,  and  he  went  down 
there.  Old  Murray,  the  engineer,  was  standing  steadfast 
before  his  gleaming  cranks  and  leaping  pistons ;  and  he 
saw  that  the  engine  was  being  worked  at  a  speed  he  had 
never  seen  before. 

The  engineer  shook  his  head  without  turning  round. 
"  If  aught  gives,  Master  Austin  !  " 

"  Is  there  any  danger .''  " 

"  She'll  just  hold  her  own  if  naught  gives." 

"  I  suspect  our  lives  are  in  good  hands,  old  friend," 
said  Austin,  "  and  I  know  no  one  to  whom  I  would  soon- 
er trust  mine." 

The  old  man  looked  lovingly  on  Austin,  and  Austin 
stood  beside  him  some  time.     Suddenly  the  voice  of  the 
master  was  heard  inquiring  for  Mr.  Austin. 
138 


Austin  Elliot 

Some  one  said  he  was  in  the  engine-room. 

"Tell  him  to  come  quick.  Say  I  have  something  to 
show  him." 

Austin  dashed  out  of  the  engine-room,  and  up  the  only 
open  companion-ladder.  As  he  got  on  deck,  the  press  of 
wind  nearly  suffocated  him,  but  the  ship  was  steady. 
There  was  very  little  sea,  the  wind  had  beaten  it  down. 
Above,  all  was  black  as  ink,  but  the  sea  around  them  was 
a  wild  mist  of  white  foam.  The  master  shouted  in  his 
ear  — 

"  Look  a-head  and  aloft ! " 

He  did  so.  A-head  of  the  ship's  bows,  high  aloft,  there 
was  a  brighter  patch  in  the  inky  sky,  a  patch  of  blue,  in 
which  were  three  or  four  stars,  which  seemed  to  reel,  and 
dip,  and  rise  again,  as  he  staggered  on  the  slippery  deck ; 
and  across  this  patch,  wreaths  and  wisps  of  storm-cloud 
were  flying  quick  as  lightning  ;  but,  awful  as  it  seemed  to 
Austin,  these  wreaths  of  cloud  were  not  going  with  the 
wind,  but  from  right  to  left,  nearly  dead  against  it. 

"  Good  Lord !  "  he  said,  "  why  the  clouds  are  flying 
against  the  wind  !  " 

"  It  is  a  new  trick  they  have  got  then,"  said  the  master  ; 
"  wait  and  watch.  Master  Austin,  you  won't  see  the  like 
again  out  of  the  China  seas.  This  is  what  /  call  a  ty- 
phoon. I  reckon  they  have  another  name  for  it  herea- 
bouts.    Watch  what  happens,  sir." 

The  patch  of  blue  sky  approached  them,  though  not 
very  fast,  and  as  it  approached  them,  grew  larger.  At 
last  it  was  over  head,  and  as  they  became  aware  of  it, 
they  became  aware  of  these  things  also.  That  it  was  a 
great  funnel  into  the  sky,  through  a  circular  whirlwind  of 
storm-cloud;  and  that  the  moment  they  were  under  it, 
the  ship  was  becalmed  amidst  a  heavy  sea,  which  slopped 
about,  here  and  there,  in  every  direction. 

They  were  actually  becalmed,  while  all  around  they  could 
hear  the  tempest  howling  and  raving.  The  ship  began  to 
make  splendid  headway  now,  with  her  head  S.  W. 

139 


Austin  Elliot 

But  in  twenty  minutes,  the  engines  were  ordered  to  go 
at  half  speed,  and  her  head  was  put  N.  E.  straight  for  the 
island  which  they  had  dreaded.  Ten  minutes  after,  the 
storm  struck  them  from  that  very  quarter,  with  increased 
fury,  and  the  good  Pelican,  saved,  with  her  engines  going 
quarter  speed,  was  drifting  slowly  and  safely  out  into  the 
Atlantic. 

And  in  the  morning,  when  the  storm  was  past,  she  was 
leaping  and  bounding  southward,  over  the  bright  blue 
waves,  with  a  thousand  happy  sea-birds  skimming  and 
diving  around  her.  And  Austin  and  Eleanor  were  on 
deck  together,  already  forgetful  of  the  hideous  night  which 
had  passed. 

And  now  we  must  bid  good-bye  to  the  Pelican,  and  to 
Murray,  the  engineer,  and  the  sailing-master,  for  our  way 
lies  in  a  different  direction.  Austin  was  about  to  part 
from  these  friends  of  his  youth,  these  friends  who  had 
pampered  and  petted  him,  and  to  start  in  the  world  for 
himself.     With  what  success,  we  shall  see. 

A  month  after  his  return  to  London  he  was  on  his  way 
to  make  the  tour  of  the  East,  with  Lord  Charles  Barty.  At 
Alexandria  he  picked  up  a  letter,  which  told  him  that  his 
father  was  dangerously  ill.  He  turned  homeward,  and  his 
faithful  friend  came  with  him.  At  Malta,  he  heard  that 
his  noble  old  father  was  dead.  His  burst  of  grief  was 
wild  and  child-like,  but  his  good  friend.  Lord  Charles 
Barty,  stayed  him  and  comforted  him,  and  took  him  home 
gently  and  kindly,  and  Austin  rewarded  him  for  it,  one 
fine  morning,  as  we  shall  see.  He  got  home  only  to  find 
the  funeral  sometime  over,  and  to  take  possession  of  his 
property. 

And  now  we  must  skip  a  few  months,  and  pick  up  our 
story  again  at  the  end  of  them.  These  last  events  took 
place  in  the  Spring  of  1845.  We  shall  take  it  up  again  in 
the  beginning  of  1846. 


140 


I 


Austin  Elliot 


Chapter  XIX 

The  year  1846  had  begun,  Parliament  had  met,  and  the 
murder  was  out.  Everybody  had  been  perfectly  certain  of 
it,  ever  since  Lord  Stanley's  refusal  to  join  the  new  minis- 
try ;  but  everybody  now  said,  that  they  wouldn't  have  be- 
lieved it.  After  Sir  Robert  had  got  up,  immediately  after 
the  seconding  of  the  address,  and,  in  less  than  twenty 
minutes  announced,  that  the  failure  of  the  potatoes  had 
necessitated  his  resignation,  and  that  his  ideas  on  the  sub- 
ject of  protection  had  undergone  a  considerable  change ; 
some  people,  by  far  the  larger  number,  were  struck  with 
profound  admiration,  some  were  violently  angry,  some 
were  intensely  amused,  and  all  very  much  excited. 

A  new  political  star  had  arisen,  though  as  yet  it  was 
very  near  the  horizon,  and  its  orbit  was  unascertained. 
Some  time  before  Parliament  met,  the  Daily  Intelligencer, 
a  paper  which  prides  itself  on  the  earliness  of  its  political 
intelligence,  announced  that  •*  they  were  informed,"  that 
the  address  would  be  moved,  in  the  Commons,  by  the 
newly  elected  member  for  Granitebridge.  But  Sir  Robert 
Peel  knew  better  than  that.  The  address  was,  on  that 
occasion,  committed  to  the  older  and  wiser  head  of  Lord 
Francis  Egerton. 

The  newly  elected  member  for  Granitebridge  was  no 
other  a  person  than  Lord  Charles  Barty.  A  vacancy  for 
that  borough  having  occurred  by  the  death  of  old  Sir 
Pitchcroft  Cockpole,  the  borough  had  been  contested  by 
Lord  Charles  and  Captain  Blockstrop.  The  gallant  Cap- 
tain was  fearfully  beaten,  to  his  own  great  surprise. 

The  Captain  had  argued  in  this  way.  That  Lord  Charles, 
though  coming  of  a  Whig  house,  must,  being  a  duke's 
son,  be  at  heart  a  Tory.  That  was  Captain  Blockstrop's 
unalterable  opinion.  So  he  issued  a  rather  liberal  address, 
as  he  thought ;  expecting  to  be  opposed  by  the  very  faint- 
141 


Austin  Elliot 

est  and  mildest  form  of  gentle  Whiggery.  When  he  read 
Lord  Charles  Barty's  address,  Austin  says  that  his  hair 
stood  on  end,  and  emitted  electrical  brushes,  and  his 
whiskers  crackled  like  a  cat's  back. 

Lord  Charles's  address  was  the  most  atrocious  and  re- 
volutionary document  which  had  appeared  for  many  years. 
The  Captain  had  said,  "  that,  should  it  appear  that  the 
supply  of  food  was  likely  to  be  seriously  diminished  by 
the  failure  of  the  potato  crop,  he  for  one  would  listen 
patiently  to  any  arguments  which  might  be  adduced  in 
favour  of  a  temporary  (mark  him,  a  temporary)  suspension 
of  the  duties,"  for  many  of  the  population  of  Granitebridge 
were  bucolic  and  Protectionists.  Lord  Charles  Barty  had 
disposed  of  this  question,  and  conciliated  the  Protection- 
ists by  saying, "  that  the  Corn  Laws  were  a  festering  ulcer 
on  the  body  politic,  and  that  every  hour  they  were  per- 
mitted to  remain,  was  another  hour  of  humiliation  and 
disgrace  to  the  country."  The  Captain  thought  that,  at 
some  future  time,  a  slight  enlargement  and  redistribution 
of  the  suffrage  might  possibly  be  advisable.  Lord  Charles 
Barty  proposed  manhood  suffrage  and  the  ballot,  to  be 
taken  immediately,  as  his  specific  for  the  potato  rot,  and 
every  other  disease.  The  Captain,  who  seemed  really  to 
have  taken  some  pains  to  inform  himself  of  facts,  thought 
that,  in  case  of  a  suspension  or  abolition  of  the  corn  du- 
ties, some  relief  should  be  granted  to  the  agricultural  in- 
terest ;  say  in  a  consolidation  of  highway  districts,  or  in 
an  alteration  in  the  law  of  settlement.  But  Lord  Charles 
either  knew  nothing  (which  is  most  probable)  or  cared 
nothing,  about  highway  rates,  or  the  return  of  worn-out 
paupers  from  rich  manufacturing  towns,  to  impoverished 
rural  districts.  He  finished  his  address  by  telling  the 
Protectionist  constituency  of  Granitebridge,  that,  if  the 
agricultural  interest  could  not  take  care  of  itself,  it  was  no 
one  else's  business  tt)  take  care  of  them. 

But  he  was  elected  by  258  against  164,  for  these  reasons. 

In  the  first  place,  the  good  and  gallant  Captain,  had 
142 


Austin  Elliot 

made  a  most  awful  and  Jack-a-shore  sort  of  blunder.  His 
strong  point,  the  point  on  which  he  dwelt  most,  was  that 
of  Admiralty  reform.  Now  it  so  happens,  that  Granite- 
bridge  is  not  more  (as  the  crow  flies)  than  one  hundred 
miles  from  the  great  arsenal  of  Plymouth  ;  and  all  the  trim 
stone  villas  about  the  town,  have  been  built  out  of  the 
proceeds  of  filchings  of  copper,  and  nails,  and  rope's  ends, 
from  the  dockyard  there.  The  inhabitants  of  those  cot- 
tages and  villas,  had  each  of  them,  at  that  very  time,  three 
or  four  relations  down  in  Plymouth,  in  the  dockyards 
there,  filching  away  their  hardest,  at  the  copper  and 
rope's  ends,  that  they  also  might  retire,  and  build  villas 
like  their  relations.  Now,  you  know,  this  was  not  the  sort 
of  constituency,  to  which  to  broach  Admiralty  reform. 
The  Captain  argued  that,  being  so  near  Plymouth,  they 
must  be  familiar  with,  and  interested  in,  dockyard  mis- 
management. This  was  eminently  true,  but  not  in  the 
sense  the  Captain  meant. 

Another  point  in  Lord  Charles  Barty's  favour  was,  that 
his  name  was  Barty.  The  mighty  sheets  of  deep  red  corn- 
land,  which  stretched  west  from  the  town,  lying  in  pleas- 
ant slopes  towards  the  south,  were  all  his  father's,  as  far 
as  the  eye  could  reach.  The  town  itself,  and  the  land 
about  it,  belonged  to  Sir  Pitchcroft  Cockpole.  They  al- 
ways had  a  Cockpole,  or  a  Barty  for  one  of  their  members. 
They  knew  them,  and  could  trust  them  :  and  these  Bartys 
too ;  they  were  all  wild  young  hawks  at  first  (except  the 
blind  Lord  Edward),  but  they  always  turned  out  steady, 
devoted,  useful  public  servants  in  the  end.  "  I'm  a  Pro- 
tectionist," said  one  old  farmer  on  the  hustings,  "  but  I'd 
sooner  have  Lord  Charles  and  Free-trade,  than  e'er  a  one 
else,  with  Protection.  Though  he  is  a  owdacious  young 
Turk,  sure/K  —  drat  'un  !  " 

And  a  third  reason  for  Lord  Charles's  return  is  this : 

when  he  and  his  friend  Mr.  Elliot  came  down  canvassing, 

there  was  no  resisting  them.    They  were  such  a  handsome, 

noble,  merry  pair  of  fellows,  that  they  took  the  warm  De- 

143 


Austin  Elliot 

von  hearts  by  storm.  Lord  Charles  went  about  uttering 
the  most  atrocious  revolutionary  sentiments,  in  an  airy, 
agreeable  sort  of  way,  and  Austin  went  with  him,  and 
laughed  at  him. 

One  great  event  of  the  campaign,  was  the  attack  on  old 
Mr.  Pilgrim,  the  quaker,  in  the  upper  Croft.  It  will  illus- 
trate their  very  free  and  easy  sort  of  tactics. 

On  the  very  first  day  of  their  arrival,  as  Charles  Barty, 
Austin,  and  the  attorney  were  sitting  together  after  dinner : 
Brentmore  pointed  him  out  as  an  important  and  influential 
man  —  a  man  who,  if  the  Captain  ran  them  close,  might 
make  or  mar  the  whole  business. 

"  You  must  go  to  him  to-morrow  morning,  my  lord." 

"I'll  be  hanged  if  I  do.  I  shall  say  something  terrible, 
and  set  him  against  me.  I  cannot  converse  with  a  quaker 
—  I  never  tried." 

"  You  will  have  to  try,"  said  the  attorney. 

"  Wouldn't  it  be  better  fun,"  said  Lord  Charles,  "  seeing 
he  is  such  an  influential  man  ;  for  me  to  send  a  letter  to 
him,  saying  that  I  consider  him  a  broad-brimmed  old 
idiot,  and  that  I'll  tweak  his  stupid  nose  for  twopence. 
There  would  be  some  fun  in  winning  the  election  after 
that." 

"  There  would,  indeed,  my  lord.  You  must  go  to  him 
to-morrow.  When  the  Tory  man  came  down,  before  the 
breath  was  out  of  Sir  Pitchcroft's  body,  to  see  how  the 
land  lay,  he  just  called  on  Mr.  Pilgrim,  and  from  what  he 
heard  there,  went  away  again." 

"  Who  was  the  gentleman  —  who  was  the  base  Tory 
who  dared  to  show  his  face  at  Granitebridge  ?  " 

"  A  certain  Captain  Hertford,"  said  the  attorney. 

Lord  Charles  and  Austin  became  attentive. 

"  He  has  done  a  good  deal  of  dirty  electioneering  work 
in  his  time,  and  now  he  is  looking  out  for  a  seat  for  him- 
self. He  is  engaged  to  be  married  to  Miss  Hilton,  a  great 
heiress,  I  believe." 

"  Will  you  be  kind  enough  to  tell  him,  the  next  time  you 
144 


Austin  Elliot 

see  him,"  said  Austin,  "  that  he  is  a  confounded  liar,  and 
that  I  told  you  to  say  so." 

"  No,  Mr.  Elliot.  A  man  of  my  figure,  sir,  as  broad  as 
he  is  long,  and  only  ten  stone,  after  all,  can't  do  it,  sir.  It 
would  be  no  use  doing  it,  and  putting  it  in  the  bill.  No 
one  is  rich  enough  to  pay  me  for  the  consequences  of  tell- 
ing that  gallant  captain  that  he  is  a  confounded  liar.  Sup- 
pose, sir,  that  you  were  to  tell  him  so,  and  to  say  that  / 
told  you." 

"  You  mark  my  words,  I  will,"  said  Austin  —  "  the 
abominable  villain ! " 

"  I  understand,"  said  the  attorney,  "  that  the  young  lady 
is  quite  under  the  influence  of  her  aunt,  and  —  by-the-bye, 
we  must  look  over  the  lists,  gentlemen,"  he  added,  quickly, 
for  Lord  Charles,  after  three  or  four  attempts,  had  man- 
aged to  give  him  a  violent  "  drive  "  on  the  shins  under  the 
table. 

Just  outside  the  town  at  Granitebridge,  there  is  a  long 
lime  avenue  by  the  river  side.  Here,  at  ten  o'clock  that 
night,  Lord  Charles  Barty  and  Austin  walked  up  and 
down,  smoking  their  cigars. 

The  winter's  moon  was  overhead  above  the  leafless  trees ; 
and  far  up  to  the  north,  in  the  moor,  they  could  hear  the 
river,  here  so  calm,  chafing  among  his  granite  boulders. 

"  Austin,  old  fellow,"  said  Lord  Charles,  "  when  are  you 
going  to  get  married  }  " 

"  I  wish  I  knew,"  said  Austin. 

"  There  is  no  cloud  between  you  and  Eleanor,  is  there  ?  " 
said  he. 

"  Not  one  vestige,"  said  Austin.  "  There  was  a  time, 
Charles,  when  I  was  not  in  love  with  that  woman  ;  but 
there  never  was  a  time  when  I  did  not  love  her." 

"  And  your  love  for  her  grows  stronger  ?  "  said  he. 

"  Day  by  day,  and  hour  by  hour,"  said  Austin.  "  But 
she  —  does  she  love  me  as  I  love  her  }  " 

"  Ten  thousand  times  better,  Austin.  I  will  go  bail  for 
that." 

145 


Austin  Elliot 

"  Then  why  does  she  put  me  off  ?  " 

*•  I  do  not  know.  Because,  I  take  it,  she  is  in  the  hands 
of  her  aunt.  You  should  make  a  bold  push  of  some  kind. 
Look  at  her  position,  my  dear  old  friend  —  just  look  at 
her  position.     God  help  her  if  anything  happens  to  you  !  " 

"  Her  position  is  not  good,  certainly,"  said  Austin,  pen- 
sively. 

"  It  is  simply  horrible !  Here  is  a  young  lady—  a  lady 
mind  —  with  an  enormous  fortune,  very  handsome,  in  her 
way ;  clever  and  charming  beyond  conception,  without  a 
soul  to  speak  to  in  her  own  rank  in  life.  My  blind  brother, 
and  you  and  I,  are  the  only  friends  she  has  in  the  world. 
She  is  utterly  debarred  from  all  society." 

"  You  see,"  said  Austin,  "  her  father  did  some  queer 
things  in  his  time,  and  so  no  one  takes  her  up." 

"  The  world  is  very  cruel,  Austin,  but  it  is  not  so  cruel 
as  all  that.  The  reason  that  no  one  goes  near  her  is,  that 
no  one  will  have  anything  to  do  with  her  aunt." 

"  I  suppose  that  is  it,"  said  Austin  ;  "  and  she  is  getting 
worse  and  worse." 

"  Does  she  drink  }  "  said  Lord  Charles. 

"  I  fancy  so.     She  is  always  terribly  excited." 

"  Did  you  hear  of  her  kicking  up  a  row  in  church,  last 
Sunday  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Austin.     "  Was  Eleanor  with  her  ?  '* 

"  Oh,  no  ;  she  and  Edward  were  philandering  at  St. 
Paul's,  bless  the  two  sweet  Puseyites.  Austin,  why  are 
you  not  jealous  of  Edward  ?  " 

"  And  thereby  deprive  Eleanor  of  the  only  happy  hours 
of  her  life.  Why,  if  it  were  not  for  your  brother,  and  his 
sitting  to  play  her  piano,  and  his  taking  her  about  to  the 
churches  and  cathedrals  on  a  week-day,  she'd  go  mad. 
Jealous  of  your  brother!  I  watched  them  one  day  last 
week,  creeping  in  under  the  shadow  of  the  abbey  wall. 
She  was  leading  him,  for  there  was  some  anthem  to  be 
sung,  which  they  had  heard  of,  and  had  gone  posting  off 
across  the  park  to  hear.  It  was  Advent  time,  you  know  ; 
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Austin  Elliot 

and  there  are  fine  anthems  sung  then,  about  Christ's  com- 
ing, and  that  sort  of  thing.  And  I  followed  them  in,  and, 
when  the  organ  had  done  snarling  and  booming,  and  the 
voices  began,  I  watched  them,  and  there  they  sat,  with 
their  hands  folded  before  them,  like  two  stone  angels. 
Your  brother  has  a  beautiful  face  of  his  own,  blind  as  he 
is.  Somewhat  too  much  of  this.  One  is  talking  nonsense, 
or  near  it.  One  always  does,  if  one  walks  up  and  down  at 
midnight,  with  the  friend  of  one's  heart." 

"  May  the  deuce  have  a  man  who  don't,"  said  Lord 
Charles.    "  That  brother  of  mine  has  a  noble  face." 

"  Was  Lord  Edward  always  blind  ?  " 

"  Always.  He  began  to  sing  when  he  was  five  years 
old." 

"  He  never  sings  now." 

"  No,  he  lost  his  voice  at  fourteen.  Before  that,  he  used 
to  go  wandering  about  the  house,  singing  some  ballad,  or 
hymn,  which  had  taken  his  fancy,  to  some  tune  of  his  own 
choosing,  in  a  strange,  shivering,  silvery  voice.  Once,  I 
remember  George  and  I  were  in  the  school-room,  kicking 
up  a  row  with  our  sisters,  and  plaguing  Miss  Myrtle  :  and 
we  heard  him  come  singing  along  the  gallery,  and  we  all 
grew  silent  and  listened.  And  we  heard  him  feel  his  way 
to  the  door,  singing  all  the  time.  And  he  was  singing 
*•  Lord  Ullin's  Daughter."  And  he  drew  the  door  open, 
while  we  all  sat  silent ;  and  you  never  saw  a  stranger 
sight.  He  thought  no  one  was  there  (for  we  were  all  very 
silent),  and  went  on  singing ;  and  his  blind  face  was 
flushed  with  passion : 

*  And  still,  as  wilder  grew  the  storm. 
And,  as  the  night  grew  drearer, 

Adown  the  glen  rode  armed  men, 
Their  footsteps  sounded  nearer.* 

*'  Yes,  he  is  a  fine  fellow.  Let  us,  however,  return  to 
what  we  were  talking  about." 

"That  includes  a  great  many  things,"  said  Austin. 

H7 


Austin  Elliot 

*•  For  instance :  about  Aunt  Maria  making  a  fracas  in 
church." 

"  Oh,  aye,  she  did.  My  people  were  at  St.  Peter's,  and 
she  came  in,  and  the  pew-opener  had  put  some  one  in  her 
pew.  And  she  kicked  up  a  row,  by  Jove,  and  spoke  out 
loud.     She  was  either  mad  or  drunk." 

"  Was  there  any  disturbance  ?  " 

"Why,  no.  She  recovered  herself  when  every  one 
looked  round.  But  no  one  minded  their  prayers  much. 
Well,  I  don't  want  to  distress  you,  old  fellow,  but  you  had 
better  know  the  truth.  It  was  a  very  ugly  business.  She 
utterly  lost  command  of  herself.  People  were  talking  of 
it  in  London,  and  said  she  was  drunk." 

"  What  the  deuce  am  I  to  do  ?  "  said  Austin  impatiently. 

"  Make  Eleanor  appoint  a  day  for  marrying  you.  Don't 
be  put  off  any  longer." 

"  There's  were  it  is,"  said  Austin.  *'  She  /las  appointed 
a  day.  She  has  appointed  a  day  in  next  April  twelve- 
months." 

"  Next  April  twelvemonths  ?  " 

"  Aye,"  said  Austin,  "  and  stuck  to  it." 

"  That  looks  like  reading  the  bill  this  day  six  months," 
said  Lord  Charles. 

"  No,"  said  Austin,  "  she  don't  mean  that.  She  is  in 
her  aunt's  hands." 

"  She  must  be  very  weak,"  said  Lord  Charles. 

"  No  !  "  said  Austin.  "  She  loves  me,  as  you  know. 
There  is  some  scandal  in  the  house,  most  likely  about  her 
brother,  who  is  dead,  who  robbed  you  at  Eton.  Aunt 
Maria  knows  something,  and  whips  her  in.  What  shall  I 
do  with  that  black-hearted  villain,  Hertford  ?  " 

"  Leave  him  alone.  Give  him  rope  enough  to  hang 
himself  withal.  If  she  allows  her  aunt  to  bully  her  into 
marrying  him,  you  are  well  rid  of  her.  By  giving  him 
rope,  you  may  bowl  out  Aunt  Maria." 

"  You  are  right.  Meanwhile,  your  brother  Edward  is 
there  continually ;  and  she,  with  her  true  toad-eating  in- 
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I 


Austin  Elliot 

stinct,  allows  him  to  come  unchallenged,  when  my  appear- 
ance would  only  make  a  scene  for  poor  Eleanor,  after  I 
was  gone.  Lord  Edward  is  stone-blind  ;  but  not,  as  I 
have  heard,  deaf.  On  some  occasions.  Aunt  Maria  has 
behaved  as  though  she  considered  that  the  loss  of  one 
sense  involved  the  loss  of  all.     I  say,  Barty !  " 

"  Well,  old  fellow." 

"  About  Hertford.  I  know  that  his  scheme  is  to  marry 
Eleanor  if  he  can.  The  end  will  be,  that  he  will  try  to  get 
rid  of  me  by  forcing  me  to  go  out  with  him." 

"  Damn  duelling !  "  said  Lord  Charles,  suddenly. 

"  So  say  I,"  said  Austin  ;  "  but  that  is  his  game." 

Lord  Charles  chucked  his  cigar  into  the  road  and  walked 
silent  for  a  few  minutes  ;  at  the  end  he  said, 

"  Dear  old  fellow  !  will  you  pay  attention  to  me  ?  That 
is  his  game ;  I  know  it,  Edward  knows  it.  He  will,  in 
case  of  his  finding  himself  outwitted,  do  that ;  he  is  a  dead 
shot,  he  will  force  you  out  and  kill  you,  if  it  becomes 
worth  his  while  —  you  must  be  very  careful  and  gentle 
with  him." 

"  I  have  been,  Charles,"  said  Austin.  "  I  know  what 
you  say  is  true,  and  I  have  been  very  careful." 

"  Aye,  but  it  has  not  been  worth  his  while  yet.  There 
is  a  strong  talk  about  enforcing  the  law  against  duelling. 
He  knows  that.  It  will  be  his  last  resource.  If  he  could 
get  her,  and  her  aunt  safe  abroad,  he  would  shoot  you  to- 
morrow." 

The  interview  with  Mr.  Pilgrim  the  quaker  was  emi- 
nently successful.  It  took  place  next  morning  at  eleven, 
in  this  wise :  — 

Lord  Charles  was  perfectly  snapping  to  Austin  as  they 
walked  towards  the  house ;  and  Austin  laughed  at  his  woe- 
begone look,  till  he  assaulted  him  in  a  by-place  where  no 
one  was  looking.  When  they  got  to  the  quaker's  house 
they  were  shown  into  a  cool  parlour,  to  await  the  great 
man.  Austin  took  down  books  from  the  shelves,  poked 
the  fire,  and  dropped  the  poker,  made  jokes,  laughed 
149 


Austin  Elliot 

loudly  at  them,  and  generally  misbehaved  himself.  At 
last  he  came  round  to  the  cellaret,  and,  seeing  it  was  un- 
locked, prompted  by  a  noble  curiosity,  he  raised  the  lid. 
At  this  moment  a  heavy  footfall  was  heard  outside  the 
door,  and  Austin  dropped  the  lid  with  a  terrible  slam,  just 
as  the  quaker  entered  the  room. 

He  was  a  noble-looking  old  man,  and  he  went  straight 
up  to  Austin,  with  a  sweet  smile  — 

"  Lord  Charles  Barty,  I  believe,"  said  he. 

Austin,  as  red  as  fire,  pointed  to  the  real  man ;  and  the 
candidate,  looking  as  red  as  Austin,  said, 

"  I  am  Lord  Charles  Barty,  Mr.  Pilgrim." 

"  And  this  gentleman,"  said  the  quaker,  sweetly,  "  who 
has  done  me  the  honour  to  look  into  my  poor  cellaret  ?  " 

"  That's  Mr.  Austin  Elliot,"  said  Lord  Charles,  "  and 
confound  him,  he  is  always  up  to  some  of  his  fool's  tricks 
in  the  wrong  place.  But  he  is  mad,  you  know  —  as  mad 
as  a  hatter.  No  one  can  manage  him  but  me.  I  wouldn't 
have  allowed  him  to  take  anything;  I  don't  think  he 
meant  to.  He  has  a  monomania  for  looking  into  people's 
cellarets.  All  his  family  had.  His  —  his  —  his  grand- 
mother died  of  it ;  and  by  Jove,  sir,  it's  hurrying  him  to 
his  grave ! " 

"  Indeed  !  "  said  Mr.  Pilgrim,  with  his  mouth  twitching 
at  the  corners. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Lord  Charles  ;  "  but  that  don't  matter. 
I  say,  Mr.  Pilgrim,  I  wish  you'd  vote  for  me,  and  get  the 
other  people  you  can  manage,  to  vote  for  me.  I  assure 
you  that  I  will  make  a  good,  diligent  member.  All  I  care 
for  is  to  get  into  the  House  and  find  my  place  in  the  world, 
It  may  seem  a  conceited  thing  to  say,  but  I  think  I  shall 
make  you  a  better  member  than  Captain  Blockstrop, 
though  he  is  a  gentleman,  and  a  good  fellow.  I  was  going 
to  make  you  a  speech,  but  that  fellow  Elliot  has  put  it  out 
of  my  head.  Perhaps  it  is  all  for  the  best.  If  I  remember 
right,  there  was  a  lie  or  two  in  the  speech  I  was  going  to 
make  you.  Now  I  have  blurted  out  the  whole  truth." 
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Austin  Elliot 

The  quaker  looked  on  him  with  a  smile. 

"  I  have  two  conditions,  my  lord." 

Lord  Charles  recovered  himself  and  looked  keenly  at 
him. 

"  Let  me  hear  them,"  he  said,  "  just  to  see  if  they  tally 
with  my  own  foregone  conclusions.  But  mind,  I  don't 
change  one  iota  of  my  programme,  at  your  or  any  other 
man's  bidding." 

"  There  spoke  a  real  obstinate  Barty,"  said  the  quaker. 
"  My  conditions  are  these  —  You  are  pledged  to  sweep  the 
corn-laws  into  the  dust-bin  of  the  past  once  and  for  ever. 
Do  I  understand  that  ?  " 

"  You  may  certainly  understand  that." 

"  And  you  and  Mr.  Elliot  are  pledged  to  dine  with  me 
the  day  after  to-morrow,  and  see  what  is  in  the  cellaret  ?  " 

"  I  am  pledged  to  that  also." 

"  Then  all  shall  go  well.  My  lord,  I  know  you  and  your 
worth,  and  I  know  Mr.  Elliot  and  his  worth  also,  though 
he  has  peeped  into  my  cellaret.  I  wish  you  a  good  morn- 
ing, my  lord.  I  have  done  one  good  service  for  you  already. 
I  sent  that  —  that  —  military  officer,  Will  Hertford  out  of 
the  borough  pretty  quick.  There  is  a  great  advantage  in 
lending  money  at  times ;  you  can  get  rid  of  a  man.  My 
old  acquaintance  George  Hilton  used  to  say  that.  Ah ! 
poor  fellow.  Sad  for  him  to  die  and  leave  his  poor  little 
girl  all  alone  in  this  wicked  world.    Good  morning ! " 

So  Barty  was  returned  by  a  noble  majority,  and  Block- 
strop  once  more  went  down  into  the  sea  in  his  ship,  and 
put  forth  into  the  deep,  taking  his  naval  reforms  with  him ; 
and  so  the  Admiralty  was  left  in  peace. 


X5I 


Austin  Elliot 


Chapter  XX 

Eleanor  lived  at  the  house  her  father  had  occupied  for 
many  years,  in  Wilton  Crescent.  It  was  not  a  large  house, 
and  her  household  was  small.  She  saw  actually  no  society. 
Sometimes  the  monotony  of  her  life  was  broken  by  the  visit 
of  an  old  schoolmate,  but  they  never  stayed  long,  nor  did 
she  press  them.  Hers  was  not  a  house  for  bright  young 
girls  to  stay  in.  She  felt  it.  She  knew  it.  There  was 
something  so  indefinably  coarse,  something  so  beyond  and 
beside,  all  gentle  domestic  love,  in  her  aunt,  that  she 
never  pressed  those  girls  to  stay,  and  never  of  her  own 
will,  invited  them. 

She  was  a  strange  little  being.  She  had  to  dree  her 
weary  weird,  and  she  did  so,  with  a  depth  of  love,  courage, 
self-sacrifice,  and  shrewdness,  which  you  will  appreciate 
when  you  know  all.  The  fairy  which  had  given  her  such 
boundless  wealth,  had  given  her  counter-balancing  gifts 
which  made  that  wealth  worse  than  worthless.  She  would 
gladly  have  given  it  all  away,  on  certain  conditions. 

There  was  one  reason  why  she  clung  to  this  wealth. 
There  was  one  reason  why  she  still  rejoiced  that,  disgrace 
her  as  they  might,  that  wealth  was  still  her  own.  It  would 
be  Austin's.  If  he  would  only  wait  and  trust  her  through 
everything,  it  would  all  be  his.  If  he  would  only  wait  and 
trust  her. 

She  was  sitting  at  her  piano.  She  was  alone  in  her 
drawing-room,  and  the  light  of  the  level  winter's  sun  was 
on  her  face.  If  there  was,  at  ordinary  times,  a  fault  in  that 
face,  it  was,  that  the  under  lip  and  chin  were  somewhat  too 
short,  and  the  mouth  rather  too  closely  set.  That  fault,  if 
it  were  a  fault,  was  not  perceptible  just  now,  for  she  was 
leaning  over  the  keys,  with  her  fingers  upon  them,  study- 
ing the  score  of  the  music  before  her.  Every  now  and 
then  she  would  try  it,  and,  each  time  she  did  so,  the  music 
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Austin  Elliot 

grew  towards  perfection,  until  at  last  it  rolled  away  trium- 
phant and  majestic.  It  was  an  old  Huguenot  hymn-tune, 
which  she  had  found  in  her  dead  mother's  portfolio. 

The  door  opened.  Her  mouth  grew  close  set  again  in 
an  instant.     She  turned  round  and  confronted  her  aunt. 

Aunt  Maria  looked  very  flushed  and  odd.  Eleanor  said 
to  herself, "  she  has  been  drinking."  She  sat  down  before 
the  fire-place,  and,  after  a  pause,  said,  peevishly  — 

"  Well,  child." 

"  Well,  aunt  dear." 

"  Well,  aunt  dear !  "  she  repeated  sharply.  "  Eleanor, 
may  God  save  you  from  the  bitterness  of  having  a  sulky, 
obstinate  niece,  when  you  are  got  old  like  me !  A  niece 
who  loves  to  lacerate  a  poor  old  woman's  feelings,  by 
making  her  ask  and  cross-question  before  she  can  get  one 
word  of  information.  There,  God  forgive  you,  after  all  I 
have  done  for  you.  Don't  you  know  that  to-day  is  the  fif- 
teenth, you  wicked  girl  ?  " 

"  Alas,  I  know  it  well." 

"  Have  you  been  out  this  morning?  "  said  Aunt  Maria. 

•'  Of  course  I  have,"  said  Eleanor,  in  a  low  voice. 

"Well." 

"  I  have  nothing  to  tell  you.  Captain  Hertford  went 
with  me." 

"  Dear  man ! "  said  Aunt  Maria.  "  Dear,  blessed,  saint- 
ed man !  And,  oh,  he  loves  the  very  ground  you  walk  on." 

"  I  am  sorry  he  should  so  far  waste  his  love,"  said  Elea- 
nor. "  I  am,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  wicked  enough  to  have  the 
very  strongest  personal  dislike  for  him.  In  this  unhappy 
business,  however,  he  seems  to  have  behaved  kindly  and 
well.  I  do  not  judge  his  motives,  I  only  judge  his  actions, 
aunt.  He  has  behaved  kindly  and  delicately  towards  me, 
and  I  will  try  to  reward  him." 

"  Ah !  "  said  Aunt  Maria,  "  if  you  would  —  " 

"  Now  aunt,  neither  you  nor  he  can  possibly  be  silly 
enough  to  suppose  that  I  shall  marry  him.  When  I  talk 
of  rewarding  him,  I  mean  this.    He  is  gone  to  stand  on 

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Austin  Elliot 

the  Tory  interest  at  Glenport.  Before  he  went,  I  told  him 
that,  if  he  would,  as  soon  as  he  had  ascertained  the  cost  of 
his  election,  have  an  interview  with  my  man  of  business, 
he  would  probably  find  those  expenses  provided  for." 

*'  Why,  you  fool,"  said  Aunt  Maria,  "  that  is  giving  the 
man  two  or  three  thousand  pounds  without  an  equiva- 
lent." 

"  Well  he  has  a  heart  somewhere,  I  suppose,"  said 
Eleanor,  "  or,  supposing  he  hasn't,  he  is  a  gentleman ; 
and,  having  taken  his  price  to  leave  me  alone,  will  do  so." 

"  I  tell  you  he  loves  you,  you  fool.  I  tell  you  that  he 
loves  the  ground  you  walk  on.  He  is  a  man ;  he  is  worth 
fifty  coxcombs.     You  —  " 

"  Don't  scold,  aunt.  If  he  does  love  me  so  deeply,  I 
must  say  he  has  taken  the  price  of  his  election-expenses 
rather  coolly.  Don't  begin  to  scold.  I  am  not  afraid  of 
your  scolding  now.     Austin  will  be  with  me  to-day." 

"  I  wish  he  was  dead,"  said  Aunt  Maria.  "  I  wish 
Charles  Barty  was  dead;  I  wish  Edward  Barty  was 
dead." 

"  When  they  are  dead  or  when  they  have  deserted  me, 
aunt,  you  may  take  me  and  do  what  you  will  with  me. 
God  knows  they  are  the  only  friends  I  have  on  this  earth. 
All  houses  are  shut  to  me,  aunt.  You  know  that.  But  I 
have  a  heaven  that  you  don't  know  about.  When  Austin 
comes  in  and  talks  to  me  in  his  sweet  gentle  voice ;  or 
when  Charles  Barty  comes  branking  in  with  his  merry  non- 
sense, I  am  in  a  different  world  to  the  one  you  know  of, 
aunt ;  and  when  blind  noble  Edward  and  I  are  at  our  music 
together  —  then,  then,  aunt,  ah  !  where  are  Captain  Hert- 
ford and  all  the  misery  then  ?  —  miles,  miles  below  our 
feet,  aunt ! " 

"  You  go  rambling  about  to  church,  with  that  blind  fid- 
dling idiot,  in  a  way  which  in  my  time  no  girl  would  have 
dared  to  do.  People  will  talk  of  it.  Have  you  no  sense 
of  what  is  correct  ?  People  will  talk  about  you  as  sure  as 
you  are  born." 

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Austin  Elliot 

"  Very  few  people  are  likely  to  talk  about  you  and  I, 
aunt,"  said  Eleanor.  "  We  have  learned  that  much,  in 
spite  of  our  wealth.  If  we  keep  quiet,  we  are  at  present 
insignificant." 

Whereupon  Aunt  Maria  began  to  scold,  rambling  on 
from  misstatement  to  misstatement,  until  she  had  no  new 
misstatement  to  make,  and  then  beginning  da  capo  with 
the  original  grievance.  And  that  is  the  true  art  of  scolding 
in  all  countries,  I  believe. 


Chapter  XXI 

There  is  a  place  I  know,  which  is  unlike  any  other 
place  I  have  ever  been  in.  It  is  only  the  transept  of  a 
cathedral,  and  yet  for  some  reason  it  is  different  to  all  other 
transepts.  I  cannot  tell  you  why,  but  so  it  is.  Possibly 
the  reason  is,  because  I  have  been  more  familiar  with  it 
than  with  any  other,  and  because  I  love  it  far  better  than 
any  other.     The  place  I  speak  of  is  Poet's  Corner. 

On  a  certain  day  Austin  Elliot  was  in  Poet's  Corner, 
sitting  upon  Chaucer's  tomb.  Those  who  walked  up  and 
down  in  the  transept  only  noticed  that  a  very  handsome 
and  well-dressed  young  man,  with  appearance  of  extreme 
youth,  was  sitting  upon  Chaucer's  tomb.  No  one  knew 
the  profoundly  deep  schemes  which  were  revolving  within 
that  youth's  head,  or  under  that  youth's  curls. 

Austin  had  taken  to  heart  what  Lord  Charles  had  said 
to  him  at  Granitebridge,  and,  after  a  long  pause,  had  acted 
on  it.  The  mere  fact  that  he  had  taken  time  to  deliber- 
ate, instead  of  rushing  off  headlong  and  doing  just  what 
his  friend  had  suggested,  proved  to  him  most  satisfactorily 
that  he  was  getting  old,  sagacious,  knowing  —  nay,  even  sly. 
He  had  developed  a  scheme  by  which  every  possible  ob- 
stacle to  the  happiness  of  all  parties  was  to  be  removed. 
He  had  matured  it,  and  now  he  was  going  to  broach  it. 

155 


Austin  Elliot 

It  required  the  consent  of  four  or  five  people,  who  were 
about  as  likely  to  agree  as  his  Holiness  the  Pope  and  his 
Majesty  the  King  of  Italy  ;  but  still  his  plan  was  a  good 
one,  and  the  idea  of  failure  was  not  to  be  thought  of. 

Things  were  very  unsatisfactory.  Eleanor  was  engaged 
to  him.  He  and  she  loved  and  trusted  one  another  be- 
yond the  way  of  ordinary  lovers.  There  had  never  been  a 
shade  of  anger  or  jealousy  between  them  for  one  second. 
He  was  his  own  master.  She  was  of  age.  And  yet 
things  were  most  unsatisfactory. 

The  fact  was  that,  as  we  have  heard  before,  Eleanor  re- 
fused to  be  married  before  the  next  spring  —  a  whole 
twelvemonth.  And  meanwhile  she  was  living,  as  it  were, 
under  the  protection  of  her  aunt  —  an  awful  woman,  who 
looked  red  and  wild  —  who  had  made  a  disturbance  in 
church  —  who  knew  no  one  —  whose  very  appearance  was 
keeping  people  in  mind  of  the  scandals  against  Eleanor's 
father,  which  they  would  have  laughed  at,  and  forgotten, 
long  ago,  if  they  had  not  been  reminded  of  them  by  the 
appearance  of  this  terrible  woman  in  the  Park,  in  Elea- 
nor's own  carriage,  every  day. 

And  again.  Captain  Hertford  was  a  man  of  very  odd 
character,  and  he  was  continually  in  Aunt  Maria's  com- 
pany. Captain  Hertford  was  known  to  be  a  desperate, 
though  successful,  gambler,  and  a  man  of  such  courage 
and  skill  in  the  noble  art  of  duelling,  that  he  could  still  hold 
his  head  up  among  the  very  best  in  the  land.  Every  one 
knew  all  sorts  of  things  about  him ;  but  any  man  who 
would  have  refused  to  go  out  with  the  gallant  Captain 
would  probably  have  had  to  withdraw  his  name  from  his 
Clubs.  Captain  Hertford  was,  in  short,  a  notorious  black- 
guard —  a  weed  which  can  only  grow  under  the  infernal, 
devil-invented  system  of  Duello ;  and  yet  a  man  with 
whom  it  was  necessary  to  be  on  good  terms,  and  a  Mem- 
ber of  Parliament.     He  sat  for  a  small  port  in  D shire. 

The  people  there  had  rather  wanted  a  Tory  Member. 

They  had  very  much  wanted  their  railway.  Captain 
156 


Austin  Elliot 

Hertford  had  undertaken  their  railway,  and  everything  else 
they  had  asked,  had  spent  a  moiety  of  Eleanor's  two 
thousand  pounds,  and  got  in  handsomely. 

Such  were  the  two  persons  who  seemed  to  use  Eleanor's 
house  as  their  own  home.  Austin's  brilliant  plan  was,  to 
marry  Eleanor,  and  buy  these  two  people  off  —  to  bribe 
them  to  leave  her  alone. 

It  was  a  good  plan.  Eleanor  had  behaved  with  the 
most  consummate  discretion.  She  had  never  appeared  in 
public  with  her  aunt;  she  had  only  a  few  old  school- 
fellows for  her  friends  ;  and,  as  for  going  out  to  any  sort 
of  party,  in  any  rank  in  life,  she  never  dreamed  of  such  a 
thing.  Every  one  (for  people  were  getting  interested  in 
her  strange  espiegle  style  of  beauty,  her  immense  wealth, 
her  curious  menage,  and  also  her  excessive  modesty  and 
good  taste)  —  every  one  knew  of  her  engagement  to  that 
young  Elliot,  and  thought  him  lucky.  Every  one  knew 
that  she  saw  nobody  except  Austin  and  his  two  friends, 
Lord  Edward  and  Lord  Charles  Barty ;  and  after  every 
one  had  seen  the  mother  of  these  two  young  noblemen  wait 
at  the  door  of  St.  Paul's  (Knightsbridge)  until  the  curious 
little  being  came  out,  dressed  in  quiet  grey  silk,  with  a 
big  diamond  clasp  to  her  cloak,  and  had  seen  the  duchess 
introduce  herself,  and  speak  kindly  to  her ;  after  this  every 
one  knew  that  she  was  a  meritorious  young  lady ;  and 
they  were  right,  for  the  duchess  was  never  wrong.  It  was 
perfectly  evident  to  every  one  after  this  that  nothing 
stood  between  Eleanor  and  entire  recognition,  save  the 
elimination  of  Aunt  Maria  and  Captain  Hertford. 

A  curious  thing  was,  that  Eleanor  never  appeared  in 
public,  except  to  go  to  church.  On  Sunday  morning  she 
was  always  at  her  place  at  St.  Paul's  (Knightsbridge) ; 
but  in  the  afternoon,  and  every  day  through  the  week,  she 
went  anywhere  and  everywhere  —  the  Abbey  —  Margaret 
Street  —  nay,  between  ourselves,  Moorfields  and  Gordon 
Square.  She  always  walked.  If  no  one  else  was  with 
her,  she  took  old  James ;  but  this  was  seldom.    Some- 

157 


Austin  Elliot 

times  Austin  would  go  with  her ;  but  generally  her  com- 
panion was  blind  Lord  Edward  Barty.  They  used  to  walk 
very  fast,  for  they  were  a  very  strange-looking  couple,  and 
people  used  to  stare  at  them.  They  never  went  anywhere 
where  they  had  to  make  many  crossings,  for  Eleanor  was 
nervous  about  taking  him  over  them.  For  this  reason 
the  Abbey  was  their  favourite  week-day  resort,  because 
the  only  difficult  crossing  is  at  the  top  of  Grosvenor 
Place :  after  this  you  are  in  the  Parks,  and  all  is  plain 
sailing. 

Lord  Edward  knew  every  organist  in  London,  and  al- 
ways knew  what  music  there  would  be.  He  used  to  come 
to  Eleanor's  house,  and  they  two  would  try  to  render  it  on 
the  piano  until  it  was  time  to  start,  and  then  they  would 
go  down  to  the  Abbey  and  hear  their  crude  attempt  ren- 
dered for  them  by  the  master's  hand,  with  every  magnifi- 
cent accompaniment  which  their  hearts  could  desire. 

On  this  day  Austin  had  called  at  Eleanor's  house,  and 
had  learned  that  she  was'  gone  to  the  Abbey,  but  alone. 
This  determined  him,  instead  of  calling  again,  to  follow 
her  there  and  walk  home  with  her ;  and  so  we  find  him 
sitting  on  Chaucer's  tomb,  and  watching  for  her. 

The  place  was  very  quiet,  for  very  few  people  were 
sauntering  about  and  looking  at  the  monuments  :  but  pres- 
ently the  organ  snarled  out  its  last  magnificent  dismissal, 
and  two  or  three  hundred  feet  came  whispering  across  the 
pavement  from  the  choir. 

Eleanor  was  nearly  the  last.  The  little  grey  ghostly  fig- 
ure came  stealing  on  from  light  to  darkness  so  gently  that 
her  footfall  could  not  be  heard  amongst  the  others,  the 
little  gloved  hands  were  hanging  at  her  side,  her  face  was 
very  calm  and  peaceful,  and  her  eyes  were  set  straight  on 
Rare  Ben  Jonson,  until  she  came  opposite  Chaucer's  tomb, 
and  she  turned  to  glance  on  it  as  usual ;  and  then  her  face 
lit  up  with  joy,  for  Austin  was  sitting  there,  defiant  of 
vergers,  and  laughing  at  her. 

They  were  together  in  one  instant,  and  her  hand  was  on 
158 


Austin  Elliot 

his  arm,  for  a  minute  they  were  both  too  happy  to  say  one 
word. 

"  My  darling  bird,"  whispered  Austin  —  for  they  were 
in  a  sacred  edifice  —  "  were  you  going  to  walk  home  alone 
in  the  dusk  ?  " 

"  Old  James  is  with  me,  Austy  dear,"  said  she.  "  When 
Lord  Edward  is  not  with  me,  I  always  bring  him." 

"  He  is  not  here  now,"  said  Austin.  "  I  wonder  if  he 
has  gone  to  sleep.    What  a  lark  if  he  should  be  locked  in." 

At  this  moment  a  terrible  disturbance  was  heard  in  the 
choir. 

"  Oh,  Austin,  whatever  shall  we  do  ?  "  said  Eleanor. 

"  Stay  here,  my  love,"  said  Austin  ;  and  he  ran  back. 

A  verger  was  just  locking  the  gate  in  the  screen,  and 
seemed  inclined  to  dispute  passage ;  but  Austin  pushed 
past  him  :  and  on  entering  saw  a  sight  which  turned  him 
to  stone.  Old  James  had  got  hold  of  a  verger  by  the  hair, 
had  dragged  him  down  across  a  bench,  and  was  beating 
him  about  the  back  of  the  head  with  Eleanor's  best 
prayer-book.  On  benches  around  stood  angelic,  white- 
robed  choristers  in  groups,  who  were  saying,  as  loud  as 
they  dared,  "  Crikey  !  "  —  "  Brayvo,  Rous !  "  and  "  Evans, 
if  you  please,  gentlemen !  "  and  making  other  low-lived  re- 
Uiarks,  which  prevailed  among  the  youth  of  our  metropolis 
in  the  year  of  grace  1845 — 46' 

Austin  garotted  and  pinioned  James,  and  turned  him 
round.  James,  thinking  Austin  to  be  another  verger,  who 
had  taken  him  in  the  rear,  made  savage  bites  at  him  over 
his  shoulders,  until  Austin  put  him  down  in  a  safe  place, 
upon  which  James  remarked, — 

"  Well,  you  are  a  pretty  sort  of  a  friend !  If  you  had  let 
me  a  gone  on  till  he  got  stupid,  I'd  have  shifted  my  hand 
and  got  the  clasp-side  of  the  book  on  the  back  of  his  head. 
Lord  !  I'd  have  killed  him  in  three  minutes." 

"  It  is  better  that  he  should  be  allowed  to  live,  to  com- 
plete the  measure  of  his  crimes,"  said  Austin,  pretty  well 
knowing,  from  long  experience,  that  old  James  had  a  very 

159 


Austin  Elliot 

strong  case  —  that,  if  not  actually  in  the  right,  he  was 
uncommonly  near  it.  It  appeared,  from  the  choristers, 
and  from  the  good  master,  who  had  fled  for  assistance, 
and  from  the  other  vergers,  that  old  James  was  in  the  right 
after  all.  He  had  fallen  asleep,  until  he  was  awakened 
by  the  departure  of  the  last  of  the  congregation  ;  he  had 
then  rapidly  slid  up  to  where  Eleanor's  gold-clasped  pray- 
er-book lay,  to  follow  her  with  it  as  his  duty  was.  The 
verger  had  got  into  the  bench  before  him,  and  thinking  he 
was  stealing  the  best  prayer-book  he  could  see,  had  very 
properly  caught  hold  of  old  James  by  his  coat,  and  on 
his  resisting,  had  struck  him.  As  Austin  and  the  master 
pointed  out,  it  was  only  a  case  for  mutual  apologies,  and 
a  sovereign,  given  by  Austin  to  the  conscientious  verger, 
made  matters  infinitely  comfortable,  and  so  he  walked  the 
old  man  off  triumphant. 

Old  James  had  burst  his  braces  in  the  meUe,  and  in- 
sisted on  stopping  to  mend  them  with  a  knife  and  some 
string,  before  he  rejoined  Eleanor. 

Austin  took  this  occasion  to  ask,  "  Why  did  you  go  to 
sleep  in  church,  James  }  Just  think  what  it  would  have 
been  for  Miss  Eleanor  if  I  had  not  been  here." 

"  Ah  !  lucky  you  was.  Uncommon  seldom  you  comes 
to  church  a  week-days,  God  forgive  you  !  Why  don't  you 
take  her  to  church  a  week-days,  like  Lord  Edward  do, 
blind  though  he  is  }  I'm  not  one  of  they,  as  holds  there's 
any  harm  in  coming  to  church  a  week-days." 

"  Neither  am  I,"  said  Austin. 

"  Then  why  don't  'ee  }  "  said  the  old  man.  "  Lord 
Edward,  he  is  a  gentleman ;  he'd  be  a  gentleman  if  he 
were  led  down  Piccadilly  by  a  brown,  curly-tailed  mongrel 
dog,  and  a  wicker  basket  in  his  mouth,  for  the  boys  to  put 
bits  of  backer  pipe  and  oyster-shells  into  it.  Aye,  he 
would,  although,  mind  you,  I'm  not  one  of  they  as  holds 
with  blind  folks  in  generally  —  they're  mortal  sly." 

"  But  why  did  you  go  to  sleep  in  church  }  "  said  Aus- 
tin. 

i6o 


Austin  Elliot 

"  Because  I  had  too  much  to  drink  in  the  morning," 
snapped  the  old  man,  who  was  undeniably  sober  now. 
"  You'd  have  done  the  same  if  you  had  had  they  wardens 
to  deal  with  all  the  morning.  '  What's  your  name,  and 
what  do  you  want  ?  '  says  one,  as  has  drunk  with  me  fifty 
times.  *  Seggetary  State's  order,'  I  says,  '  and  none  of 
your  nonsense  ;  Lamb  and  Flag  at  half-past  one,  old  boy. 
How  is  he  }  '  And  I  seen  him.  And  Lamb  and  Flag  it 
was  at  half-past  one,  and  drat  they  warders  and  all  be- 
longing to  'em.     Here's  Miss  ! " 

Austin  and  Eleanor  dismissed  old  James,  and  walked 
home  together  across  the  Park,  through  the  gathering 
darkness. 

They  hardly  spoke  one  word,  until  wending  through  the 
shrubberies  they  came  on  the  lake,  and  then  Austin  spoke. 

He  gently  and  delicately  laid  the  whole  case  before  her, 
as  we  have  made  it  out  for  him  above.  He  laid  before 
her  the  doubtfulness  of  her  position  in  the  world  while 
those  two  people.  Aunt  Maria  and  Captain  Hertford,  oc- 
cupied the  house ;  and  she  agreed  with  him  in  both. 

"  My  dearest !  "  she  said,  "  do  you  not  think  that  I  must 
feel  all  this  more  acutely  than  you  ?  I  am  not  a  foolish 
little  body  by  any  means ;  I  should  get  on  well  in  society, 
and  I  should  be  immensely  fond  of  society.  Do  you 
think  that  I  willingly  live  with  two  such  millstones  round 
my  neck  as  those  two  people  ?  " 

"  There  is  a  remedy  at  hand,"  said  Austin. 

"  I  know  it,  but  an  impossible  one." 

"  If  you  marry  me  at  once,  you  will  never  be  plagued 
with  them  any  more.  I  shall  have  authority,  and  will 
banish  them.  My  father's  old  friends  would  flock  round 
you,  and  you  would  take  the  place  that  your  wealth  and 
talent  entitle  you  to." 

**  All  this,  my  dearest,  is  mere  truism.  But  I  cannot 
marry  you  before  next  April  twelvemonth,  Austin." 

"  Now  why  not,  my  own  ?  " 

"  Ah  !  there  you  must  trust  me,  my  Austin.  There  is 
161 


Austin  Elliot 

a  skeleton  in  our  cupboard.  You  are  going  into  public 
life,  and  I  am  going  with  you ;  you  will  win  a  peerage, 
perhaps  —  at  all  events,  be  prominently  before  the  world. 
We  must  have  the  road  quite  clear  before  we  start  our 
coach." 

"  And  am  I  not  to  know  what  this  skeleton  is  ?  " 

*•  Certainly  not,  until  I  tell  you.  It  must  not  be  said 
that  we  married  while  such  and  such  was  the  case.  If  it 
be  possible,  I  would  rather  that  you  never  knew." 

"  But  others  know." 

"  We  can  buy  them.  You  always  knew  that  there  were 
queer  stories  about  the  Hiltons.  You  have  heard  the 
stories  about  my  father,  you  know  all  about  my  poor 
brother,  you  know  about  Aunt  Maria.  You  love  me,  my 
Austin  ;  I  have  great  wealth,  which  is  all  your  own,  and 
with  which  you  must  make  your  way  in  the  world.  There 
are  scandals  about  our  family  which  must  be  smothered. 
Until  they  are  smothered  and  the  road  is  clear,  it  would 
be  fatal  to  your  prospects  for  us  to  marry.  I  am  at  work 
day  and  night  with  you  only  in  my  thoughts,  God  knows, 
my  darling  !  to  clear  the  way  for  you  towards  honour  and 
fame.  I  am  working  for  you,  Austin,  like  a  patient  little 
mole,  so  diligently  and  slyly.  If  you  claim  my  promise 
next  spring,  I  will  at  all  events  lay  all  the  facts  before  you, 
and  you  shall  say  whether  you  will  have  me  or  no." 

"  You  will  not  tell  me  now  }  " 

"  No.  It  may  happen  that  you  may  never  know.  On 
that  wild  chance,  I  keep  you  in  the  dark.  But  still,  if  you 
demand,  before  you  marry  me,  an  account  of  everything,  I 
shall  have  to  give  it  you.  At  present,  your  happiness  and 
mine  is,  as  far  as  I  see,  bound  up  in  your  trusting  implicit- 
ly to  me.    Will  you  trust  me,  Austin  ?  " 

"  I  will  trust  you  implicitly,  my  own  Eleanor,"  he  an- 
swered slowly,  looking  down  into  her  eyes  —  who  would 
not  have  trusted  those  patient,  quiet  eyes  }  —  "  for  I  will 
trust  you  implicitly.     I  were  a  dog  else,  I  think." 

•*  Mind  one  thing,  Austin ;  keep  near  me,  let  me  see 
162 


Austin  Elliot 

you  continually.  Never  forget  what  I  told  you  before. 
She  can  scold  me  and  frighten  me  into  submission  at 
times." 

"  Cannot  you  get  rid  of  her  ?  " 

"  No.  She  would  create  a  scandal  when  I  want  all 
things  quiet.  You  must  do  that  — you  must  get  rid  of 
her." 


Chapter  XXII 

Although  Austin  resolved  to  trust  Eleanor  most  fully 
and  entirely,  yet,  if  we  said  that  he  was  altogether  satisfied 
and  pleased,  we  should  be  saying  that  he  was  something 
more  or  less  than  human.  He  was  a  little,  ever  so  little, 
nettled,  and  it  was  a  trial  to  him,  that  that  great  coarse- 
faced  brutal  bully  should  be  always  in  her  house,  and, 
moreover,  should  know  of  things  which  he  might  not. 
He  hated  Captain  Hertford  worse  than  ever;  he  hated 
Aunt  Maria  worse  than  ever;  but,  nevertheless,  he  felt 
sure  that  in  a  worldly  point  of  view  Eleanor  was  right. 
The  Hiltons  were  a  queer  family.  If  there  was,  as  Elea- 
nor said  there  was,  something  wrong,  still  it  was  better 
that  matters  should  be  let  down  easy,  and  the  road  cleared 
before  they  started.  He  determined  to  trust  Eleanor  im- 
plicitly. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  Austin  had  come  to  this 
resolution  without  assistance.  After  the  conversation  de- 
tailed in  the  last  chapter,  he  had  sat  in  his  room  for  an 
hour  or  more,  and  had  found  himself  getting  peevish, 
almost  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  ;  had  begun  to  feel  — 
dreadful  thought !  that  he  was  being  fooled.  Men  like 
him ;  men  who  have  never  been  tried,  and  have  looked 
only  at  the  surface  of  things  ;  men  who  believe  only  in 
the  words  which  represent  things,  and  have  no  actual 
knowledge  of  the  things  they  represent,  are  more  apt  to 
be  jealous  and  suspicious  than  those  who  have  had  their 
163 


Austin  Elliot 

noses  actually  to  the  grindstone ;  and  know  from  expe- 
rience what  good  faith  and  falsehood,  trust  and  mistrust, 
really  mean. 

He  was  in  a  fair  way  to  get  jealous ;  when  there  was  a 
bounding  foot  on  the  stairs  —  dog  Robin  leapt  up  and 
barked  joyously,  and  the  next  minute  Lord  Charles  burst 
into  the  room,  crying  — 

"  Come,  come,  laggard !  to  the  House  !  Stafford  O'Brien 
is  on  his  legs,  and  there  is  all  sorts  of  fun  in  the  wind  !  " 

Austin  came  at  once.  On  their  walk  from  Austin's 
lodgings  in  Pall  Mall,  he  had  told  his  friend  everything ; 
and  under  the  influence  of  his  friend's  affectionate  shrewd- 
ness, all  the  mists  had  cleared  away ;  and  by  the  time  he 
had  left  his  friend,  and  had  squeezed  into  a  tolerable  place 
in  the  gallery,  he  was  himself  again  prepared  to  enjoy  the 
noble  sport  which  was  going  on  in  the  arena  below. 

Lord  Brooke  was  speaking,  but  the  people  in  the  gallery 
were  whispering  to  one  another  about  Lord  Granby's 
speech,  which  seemed  to  have  been  telling.  Before  Austin 
could  hear  anything  of  it.  Lord  Brooke  sat  down,  and 
Lord  Worsley  rose.  He  made  some  terribly  hard  hitting. 
When  Austin  heard  his  quotations  from  old  speeches  of 
Sir  Robert  Peel's  and  Sir  James  Graham's,  terribly  telling 
as  they  were,  he  certainly,  mad  Peelite  as  he  was,  did 
wish  that  they  had  never  been  uttered ;  and  he  also  wished, 
most  piously,  that  the  noble  Baron  was  on  board  his  yacht, 
or  at  Appuldercombe,  or  anywhere,  save  in  that  House, 
quoting  those  confounded  old  speeches. 

Yet  these  attacks  on  his  hero  made  him  somewhat  angry. 
Of  course  they  were  easily  answered,  but  it  was  very  pro- 
voking, to  have  to  eat  one's  words  in  a  laughing  house. 
Austin  began  to  grow  warm  with  the  rest  of  the  world, 
and  left  Eleanor  pretty  much  to  herself  for  a  week. 

On  the  thirteenth  he  bethought  him  that  he  would  have 

a  joke  with  her,  so  he  sportively  sent  her  a  valentine,  and 

on  Saturday  morning,  the  fourteenth,  he  went  to  visit  her, 

intent  on  hearing  the  fate  of  the  valentine  he  had  sent 

164 


Austin  Elliot 

her.  The  door  was  opened  by  old  James,  who  said, 
"Hush!" 

Austin  asked  what  was  the  matter. 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  she  when  she  was  carrying  on  ?  " 
asked  the  old  man  ;  "  listen  to  her  now  !  " 

Aunt  Maria's  voice  was  sadly  audible  indeed ;  hoarse, 
loud  and  irregular,  coming  from  the  drawing-room  ;  Austin 
muttered  something  between  his  teeth,  and  went  quickly 
upstairs. 

He  opened  the  door,  and  she  ceased  when  she  saw  him. 
She  looked  very  red  and  wild,  and  Eleanor  sat  opposite  to 
her,  with  her  hands  folded  in  her  lap,  perfectly  patient,  and 
careless  of  what  the  old  woman  might  say.  The  old 
woman  had  evidently  been  scolding  her  hardest  at  her. 
As  Austin  came  in.  Aunt  Maria  held  her  tongue,  and 
Eleanor  looked  up  and  smiled;  but  Austin,  being  her 
lover,  could  see  what  others  perhaps  could  not.  He  had 
previously  once  or  twice,  found  her  in  a  state  of  depres- 
sion after  one  of  Aunt  Maria's  scoldings,  but  on  these 
occasions  she  had  always  been  herself  again  immediately  : 
on  this  occasion  such  was  not  the  case.  She  looked  up  at 
him  and  smiled,  but  Austin  could  see  that  she  was  not 
herself;  that  she  looked  wan,  and  pale,  and  anxious  — 
strange  to  say,  Austin  thought  he  had  never  seen  her  look 
so  handsome  before. 

He  could  not  help  wondering  what  Aunt  Maria's  in- 
genuity had  found  to  say,  so  very  disagreeable  as  to 
disturb  Eleanor's  equanimity :  but  in  spite  of  thinking 
about  this,  he  could  not  also  help  thinking  how  very  hand- 
some Eleanor  looked.  She  was  sitting  opposite  her  Aunt, 
and  was  dressed  for  walking,  with  the  exception  of  her 
bonnet,  which  lay  on  the  floor  beside  her.  She  wore  the 
long  grey  cloak  which  ladies  wore  just  then,  which  covered 
everything;  her  chin,  after  her  first  look  at  him,  had 
dropped  once  more  on  her  breast,  and  her  hands  were 
folded  in  her  lap  before  her,  with  quiet  patience :  and  the 
dull  grey  colour  of  her  habit,  and  its  almost  foldless  sim- 
165 


Austin  Elliot 

plicity,  harmonised  so  amazingly  well  with  the  dull  patience 
of  her  face,  that  she  formed  a  picture,  and  a  study  of  quiet 
endurance,  which  made  Austin  think  he  had  never  in  his 
life  seen  any  one  so  beautiful. 

Aunt  Maria  was  in  a  blind  fury  at  something.  She  rose 
and  left  the  room  without  looking  at  Austin. 

"  Has  she  been  scolding  you,  my  own  ?  "  asked  Austin, 
bending  over  Eleanor  and  kissing  her. 

"  Yes,  Austin.  Where  does  she  learn  it  all  ?  Where 
has  she  lived  ?  What  has  she  done  ?  Austin,  dear,  take 
me  to  church." 

"  Let  us  come." 

"  Aye  !  That  is  good  of  you,"  she  said.  "  If  it  was  not 
for  the  church  I  should  die  under  it  all.  They  should 
leave  the  churches  open  as  they  do  abroad.  Come  on ;  we 
shall  be  in  time.  Sometimes,  Austin,  when  she  is  like  that, 
I  get  away  and  go  over  to  the  church  and  find  it  shut,  and 
then  —  ah  !  then  —  you  don't  know  what  it  is,  my  own." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Austin  ;  "  but  if  it  distresses  you, 
my  love,  I  can  be  sorry.  I  don't  like  going  to  church. 
You  must  teach  me  to  like  it." 

"  I  will.  Austin,  should  you  be  very  angry  if  I  were  to 
join  the  Romish  Church.'^  " 

"  I !  Angry !  No.  I  should  not  be  angry.  You  would 
find  it  a  mistake,  though.     It  won't  hold  water." 

"  Will  the  English  Church  hold  water  ?  "  said  Eleanor. 

"  Why,  yes,  distinctly  so.  But  what  on  earth  do  you 
want  to  subscribe  to  the  whole  business  for  ?  Surely  you 
get  as  much  or  more  at  St.  Paul's  as  you  do  in  Cadogan 
Street.    Have  you  ever  been  there  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  I  wouldn't  go  again.  I  don't  think  you  have  thought 
much  about  it.  You  don't  know  how  much  you  sub- 
scribe to.     Have  you  been  there  often  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

'•  Don't  go  again.     I  don't  like  your  going  there.     Did 
Edward  Barty  take  you  there  ?  " 
i66 


Austin  Elliot 

••  No ;  I  went  there  by  myself.  I  tried  to  get  him  to 
go,  but  he  got  angry." 

"  He  was  quite  right.     Why  did  you  go  ?  " 

"  Because  it  always  stands  open.  And  if  you  were  a 
woman,  and  had  Aunt  Maria  to  live  with  you,  and  a  bitter 
trouble,  which  you  can't  tell  to  the  love  of  your  heart ; 
you,  Austin,  would  be  glad  to  slip  away  sometimes  and 
get  into  the  quiet  church,  and  kneel,  and  forget  it  all." 

"  It  may  be  so,"  said  Austin.  "  Meanwhile,  you  must 
pray  for  me.  Here  we  are  at  the  church-door.  I  wish 
we  might  sit  together."' 

"  We  may  pray  together,"  said  she.  "  Austin,  will  you 
come  to  the  Abbey  with  me  to-morrow  morning  ?  " 

"  Surely  I  will,"  said  he.  And  they  went  into  church, 
he  to  one  place  and  she  to  another,  as  is  the  custom  in  some 
churches.  When  he  met  her  again  at  the  church-door 
she  was  still  anxious  and  silent,  and  seemed  to  have  a  dif- 
ferent expression  on  her  face,  to  any  Austin  had  seen  be- 
fore. 

On  the  pleasant  Sunday  morning  he  came  to  take  her  to 
the  Abbey.  The  look  of  yesterday  had  deepened.  She 
looked  very  worn  and  anxious,  and  he  was  much  distressed. 
The  morning  was  a  bright,  slightly  frosty  one,  and  the  sun 
streamed  into  the  old  Abbey  through  the  south-eastern 
windows  and  fell  upon  the  beautiful  young  pair  of  lovers 
as  they  sat  together.  Eleanor  was  absorbed  in  her  prayers, 
but  Austin  was  vacantly  watching  the  lines  of  light  in  the 
thick  atmosphere  —  how  they  shifted  and  crossed  one  an- 
other as  the  sun  went  westward  —  was  wondering  how  the 
deuce  those  old  monks  got  it  into  their  heads  to  build  such 
a  beautiful  place,  and  why  the  fellows  of  the  present  day 
could  not,  in  that  respect,  hold  a  candle  to  the  men  of  the 
thirteenth,  fourteenth,  and  fifteenth  centuries.  He  thought 
of  these  things  in  a  vague,  ruminant,  ox-like  frame  of  mind, 
instead  of  attending  to  his  prayers ;  with  about  as  much 
earnestness  as  a  fly  in  the  sunshine  ;  and  very  nearly  de- 
termined to  ask  some  one  about  it.  Possibly  he  might 
167 


Austin  Elliot 

have  asked  some  one,  some  day ;  but  they  had  to  stand 
up  at  this  point  of  his  cogitations,  and  the  mere  act  of 
standing  up,  set  him  thinking  about  the  Bill,  and  what  an 
awful  sell  it  would  be  for  Lord  Lincoln,  if  Hilyard  were 
to  beat  him  for  South  Notts.  He  went  on  thinking  about 
the  chances  at  Newark  long  after  they  sat  down  again. 
He  was  actually  smiling  at  the  thought  of  the  Duke's 
anger  against  the  renegade,  and  thinking  how  much  better 
it  would  be,  if  the  Duke  would  keep  his  god-like  rage 
penned  in  his  own  bosom,  when  he  felt  Eleanor's  hand  on 
his  arm. 

He  had  been  very  inattentive,  and  he  blushed  and  looked 
down  on  the  Prayer-book  which  lay  open  between  them. 
Her  finger  was  on  the  very  passage  in  the  Litany  which 
the  priest  was  intoning  at  that  instant  —  we  humbly  vent- 
ure to  think,  one  of  the  most  sublime  pieces  of  uninspired 
prayer,  put  up  by  man  to  his  God  !  — 

"  That  it  may  please  thee  to  preserve  all  that  travel  by 
land  or  by  water ;  all  women  labouring  of  child ;  all  sick 
persons  and  young  children ;  and  to  show  thy  pity  upon 
all  prisoners  and  captives." 

Those  who  do  not  appreciate  fully  that  passage  in  the 
Litany,  had  better  hear  it  read  out  by  the  captain  in  lati- 
tude sixty  south,  when  the  sea  is  thundering  and  booming, 
and  the  ship  is  reeling  and  rolling,  and  the  wind  is  scream- 
ing, and  the  cruel  icebergs  are  gleaming,  half-seen,  in  the 
snow-fog,  and  the  horrid  long  night  is  settling  down  over 
the  raging  ocean.  They  will  find  out  what  "  travelling  by 
land  or  water  "  means  then,  I'll  warrant  them.  The  time 
came  when  Austin  realized  one  part  of  this  glorious  prayer ; 
and  not  the  part  by  any  means  that  he  ever  dreamt  of 
realizing;  and  when  he  did  so  he  remembered,  that,  as 
soon  as  this  one  paragraph  in  the  Litany  was  finished, 
Eleanor  removed  her  hand  from  his  arm  once  more,  and 
went  on  with  her  devotions  ;  and  that  he  began  to  think 
how  quietly  Lord  Henry  Lennox  had  got  in  for  Chichester ; 
and  of  the  meeting  of  the  labourers  in  Wiltshire,  and 
i68 


Austin  Elliot 

what  a  strange  business  that  was  ;  and  of  Lucy  Simkins' 
speech  and  Mary  Ferris'  speech. 

And  of  Lord  Charles  Barty's  furious  blind  rage  when  he 
read  those  speeches  aloud  ;  and  how,  when  he  had  come 
to  the  passage,  "  I  biled  they  challucks  for  my  children, 
and  the  neighbours  said  they  was  poison ;  and  I  says, 
then,  they'd  better  die  with  a  full  belly  than  a  empty  one  ;  " 
that  young  nobleman  had  rushed  up  and  down  the  room 
crying  out  for  free-trade  or  revolution.  And  so,  feeding 
his  soul  on  his  own  indignation  against  the  protectionists, 
Austin,  not  regarding  the  service,  went  on  until  he  was 
nearly  as  furious  as  Lord  Charles  himself.  And,  all  the 
time,  quiet,  patient  Eleanor  was  sitting  at  his  side,  leaning 
ever  so  slightly  against  him.  She,  too,  had  within  her 
causes,  deep  enough,  of  anger  and  indignation,  deeper 
possibly  than  Austin's  indignation  on  account  of  the 
Wiltshire  labourers,  and  his  anger  against  the  Duke  of 
Richmond  and  Mr.  Miles.  But  the  mere  feeling  of  her 
lover's  shoulder  against  her  own  made  her  quiet  and  con- 
tented ;  and  although  the  cloud  on  her  face  grew  darker 
and  darker,  as  time  went  on,  yet  still,  though  her  face  was 
pinched  and  anxious,  she  was  happy.  She  would  have  sat 
there,  leaning  against  his  shoulder,  and  have  died  as  she 
sat,  with  perfect  contentment.  When  the  sermon  was 
over,  and  they  rose  up,  she  took  up  her  burden  once  more, 
and  carried  it. 

"  My  Eleanor,"  said  Austin,  as  they  walked  home,  "  you 
are  looking  worn  and  anxious." 

"  I  am,  Austin.  To-morrow  afternoon  I  shall  be  my- 
self again." 

"  Shall  I  come  to  you  to-morrow  morning  ?  " 

"  No.  To-morrow  is  penance  day.  You  have  often 
laughed  at  me  as  a  Tractarian,  dear  Austin.  I  do  penance 
once  a  month." 

"  What  kind  of  penance  ?  "  said  he,  trying  a  harmless 
joke. 

"  A  pilgrimage,  Austin." 

169 


Austin  Elliot 

"  Whither  ?  " 

"  You  must  not  know.    You  must  not  follow." 

"  I  will  not  follow,  if  you  give  the  order,"  said  he. 

"  Then  I  give  it,"  said  Eleanor. 

Austin  was  quite  contented.  In  the  first  place  he  had 
thorough  confidence  in  Eleanor,  and  had  a  shrewd  sus- 
picion that  it  was  best  not  to  know  too  much  about  the  Hil- 
ton family  history ;  in  the  next,  there  were  affairs  to  the 
fore,  which  engaged  his  attention  more  than  the  easy  con- 
fidential courtship  to  which  he  had  committed  himself. 
This  was  the  spring  of  1846.  All  England  had  gone 
politically  mad,  and  Austin  among  the  rest.  His  father 
had  always  placed  political  success  before  him,  as  the  great 
object  on  this  side  of  the  grave,  while  he  had  spoken  with 
truly  ministerial  reserve  about  success  on  the  other.  Old 
Mr.  Elliot  had  been  very  anxious  to  make  Austin  ambitious, 
and  Austin  had  refused  to  be  made  ambitious ;  but  had 
gone  about,  with  his  hands  in  his  breeches  pockets,  laugh- 
ing at  the  whole  business,  until  — 

Well,  until  this  year,  1 846.  Ever  since  he  was  a  child, 
he  had  read  about  great  political  struggles,  just  as  we  used 
to  read  about  the  old  European  wars,  until  the  Crimean 
campaign  came  upon  us,  and  turned  all  the  familiar 
printed  words  about  the  deeds  of  our  fathers,  into  letters 
of  blood ;  which  we  eagerly  compared  with  those  which 
told  of  the  deeds  of  our  brothers  ;  and  the  history  of  war 
became  once  more  a  terrible  reality. 

Austin  had  thought  that  great  political  earthquakes  had 
come  to  an  end  in  1831  ;  that  politics  were  certainly  the 
occupation  of  a  gentleman,  but  were  not  likely  to  be  very 
interesting,  because  there  was  no  question,  nor  was  there 
likely  to  be  one.  Sir  Robert  Peel's  statement  in  January 
undeceived  him.  The  change  of  opinion  of  three  of  the 
first  men  in  the  country,  showed  him  that  there  was  sport 
a-field;  and,  after  the  first  leonine  roar  of  the  Duke  of 
Richmond,  he  began  to  go  mad  with  the  rest. 

And  in  this  manner  the  leaven  of  political  ambition, 
170 


Austin  Elliot 

which  his  father  had  so  carefully  worked  into  him,  had 
begun  to  act  with  a  vengeance.  And  so,  just  at  the  time 
we  speak  of,  his  courtship  of  Eleanor,  his  attention  to  her 
affairs,  his  jealousy  of  Hertford,  and  his  distrust  of  Aunt 
Maria,  were  quite  secondary  objects :  had  his  jealousy 
been  excited  before,  so  much  as  to  make  him  extort  an  ex- 
planation from  Eleanor,  it  would  have  been  better  for 
them  both. 


Chapter  XXIII 

Austin  sat  the  long  debate  of  Monday  out ;  and  left 
the  House  at  half-past  two.  There  was  news  from 
India,  which  was  announced  by  Lord  Jocelyn  ;  and  then 
the  weary  Corn-law  debate  began,  and  Sir  Robert  Peel,  get- 
ting on  his  legs,  spoke  calmly  and  deliberately  for  four 
hours,  explaining  what  had  taken  place  in  the  autumn,  and 
other  matters,  while  Austin  sat  and  listened  as  patiently 
as  a  reporter.  So  the  next  morning,  instead  of  riding  out 
before  breakfast,  he  lay  in  bed,  in  a  happy  sleep,  till  eleven, 
dreaming,  among  other  trifles,  that  Sir  Robert  Peel  had 
sent  Aunt  Maria  with  a  hostile  message  to  Sir  John  Tyr- 
rell, and  that  Colonel  Evans  was  escorted  to  the  hustings 
opposite  Northumberland  House  by  a  troop  of  Sikh  cav- 
alry, headed  by  old  James.  He  slept  so  long,  that  his 
servant  would  not  stand  it  any  longer,  and  woke  him  ;  and 
as  soon  as  he  had  breakfasted  he  went  off  westward  to  see 
Eleanor. 

She  was  quite  herself  again,  though  she  looked  very 
pale.  He  had  a  happy  morning  with  her.  He  gave  her, 
from  recollection,  the  heads  of  Sir  Robert  Peel's  explana- 
tion. She  sat  sewing  at  her  needlework  all  the  time,  and 
every  now  and  then  asked  a  question.  She  not  only  ap- 
peared interested,  but  she  was  so.  When  he  had  done, 
she  put  her  needle  into  her  canvas,  and  deliberately  ex- 
pressed her  opinion  that  it  was  unsatisfactory ;  that  the 
171 


Austin  Elliot 

one  hitch  in  it  was,  that  he  ought  to  have  gone  to  the 
country,  and  had  not  done  so.  And  Austin  argued  with 
her,  and  tangled  her  wool,  and  said  she  was  obstinate  and 
disagreeable  ;  but  she  stuck  to  her  opinion  about  the  dis- 
solution, and  would  not  be  talked  out  of  it.  And  so  they 
passed  a  long  happy  morning  together,  and  were  both  of 
them  sorry  when  old  James  announced  luncheon,  and  they 
had  to  go  down  to  the  dining-room,  where  was  Aunt  Ma- 
ria, boisterously  good-humoured,  and  very  red  in  the  face, 
who  amused  herself  by  continuous  railing  abuse  against 
Sir  Robert  Peel. 

And  a  most  exciting  and  delightful  month  it  was.  The 
four  friends  —  the  brothers  Barty,  Eleanor,  and  Austin, 
were  more  together  this  month  than  ever  they  were  after- 
wards. Lord  Charles  Barty  spoke  once,  and  spoke  very 
well  indeed :  and  Austin  and  blind  Lord  Edward,  who 
had  sat  patiently  in  the  gallery  to  hear  him,  brought  him 
home  in  triumphant  delight  to  Eleanor,  and  made  her  give 
them  supper  in  honour  of  the  great  event ;  and  a  right 
pleasant  supper  those  four  noble  souls  had.  Then  all  sorts 
of  things  happened,  and  kept  them  alive.  Sir  De  Lacy 
Evans  got  in  for  Westminster,  at  which  Lord  Charles  and 
Eleanor  were  glad,  though  Austin  would  have  preferred 
Captain  Rous,  as  he  liked  a  snack  of  Toryism  in  his  poli- 
tics. Then  Lord  Lincoln  was  rejected  for  Notts,  which 
made  them  all  sorry,  and  made  Lord  Charles  say  what  he 
would  have  done  if  his  father  had  dared  to  influence  his 
election  for  Granitebridge.  Then  there  was  a  Polish  in- 
surrection, which  caused  quiet  little  Eleanor  to  utter  the 
most  ferocious  and  revolutionary  sentiments,  about  the 
Emperors  of  Russia  and  Austria,  and  which  incited  Lord 
Edward  to  compose  a  piece  of  music  expressive  of  the 
woes  of  Poland  and  their  triumphant  redressal ;  which 
was  played  by  hammering  away  at  the  black  keys  until 
they  were  all  out  of  tune,  and  then  beginning  on  the  white ; 
and,  when  they  were  finished,  putting  on  the  pedals  and 
working  both  together  in  one  magnificent  crash.  But,  in 
172 


Austin  Elliot 

spite  of  all  this,  the  Polish  revolt  ended  as  all  other  Polish 
revolts  will,  until  the  cows  come  home ;  and  the  Poles  got 
lovingly  corrected  by  their  father,  Nicholas. 

Then  came  the  news  of  Moodkee  and  Ferozeshah  ;  and 
Eleanor  cried  about  Sir  Robert  Sale  ;  and  Lord  Edward 
got  into  the  organ-loft  at  St.  Paul's,  and  induced  the  or- 
ganist to  let  him  play  the  people  out ;  and  he  played  such 
a  triumphant  symphony,  that  the  people  all  came  back 
again,  under  the  impression  that,  this  being  Lent,  the  or- 
ganist had  incautiously  refreshed  himself  with  strong  liq- 
uors on  a  fasting  stomach  ;  and  the  organist  had  to  go 
secretly  to  the  back  part  of  the  organ  and  let  off  the  wind. 
It  was  a  happy  month  for  these  four  innocent  souls,  and 
before  their  golden  happy  laughter  Aunt  Maria  retired  into 
her  dressing-room,  and  had  her  meals  and  scolded  .her 
maid  there,  to  every  one's  great  content. 

And  Captain  Hertford  came  but  seldom  that  month  — 
whether  he  was  busy,  or  because  for  a  time  he  felt  himself 
beaten  by  the  young  people,  we  cannot  say.  It  was  the 
happiest  month  that  these  four  had  had,  since  they  had 
known  one  another. 

Did  either  of  the  three  others  know  of  the  weary  grief 
that  was  at  Eleanor's  heart ;  of  the  dark  cloud  which 
settled  down  on  her  face  each  night,  as  soon  as  they  were 
gone,  and  had  left  her  alone  to  the  long  night-watches  ? 
Not  one  of  them,  or  they  would  surely  have  said  that  she 
was  the  most  valiant  and  noble  little  martyr  on  earth. 
Many  things  had  to  happen  before  Austin  found  it  out ; 
and  one  of  that  group  never  found  it  out  at  all. 

Patiently  she  would  sit  at  her  window,  looking  south- 
ward across  the  crescent,  at  one  light  in  some  sick  per- 
son's room  opposite,  and  wondering  whether  their  burden 
was  so  heavy  as  her  own,  until  the  last  footfall  died  away 
in  the  deserted  street.  Sometimes  Aunt  Maria  would  send 
for  her  after  they  were  gone,  and  say  such  terrible  things 
to  her,  as  only  one  woman  can  say  to  another  —  nay,  as 
only  a  woman  well  practised  in  scolding  like  Aunt  Maria 
173 


Austin  Elliot 

can  say.  But  Eleanor  would  only  sit  and  listen,  with 
folded  hands.  She  had  a  grief  deeper  than  Aunt  Maria, 
a  grief  which  made  Aunt  Maria's  furious  scolding  sound 
like  the  singing  of  a  mosquito  outside  the  net  —  a  sound 
which  makes  your  sleep  uneasy,  but  which  does  not  wake 
you. 

That  happy  month  drew  to  a  close.  On  the  14th  they 
were  all  together.  The  cloud  which  had  settled  on  Elea- 
nor's face  every  night  after  they  had  left  her,  grew  visible 
by  day.  On  the  14th  of  March,  when  they  were  all  to- 
gether again,  Austin  noticed  that  she  looked  anxious  and 
pale.  Lord  Charles's  wildest  Radical  sallies  only  brought 
a  faint  smile  into  the  close-set  mouth,  and  a  feeble  flash 
into  the  great  gray  eyes.  Austin  knew  that  the  time  of 
her.  monthly  pilgrimage  was  approaching,  and  did  not 
wonder ;  the  others  thought  she  was  ill.  Lord  Edward 
formed  a  theory  of  her  having  caught  cold  at  church,  and 
she  encouraged  it. 

It  was  Sunday  evening.  Lord  Edward  had  gone  with 
her  to  the  Abbey,  and  the  two  sinners.  Lord  Charles  and 
Austin,  had  not  gone  with  them.  They  were  spending 
the  evening  at  her  house,  and  laying  out  plans  for  the  next 
week.  There  would  be  no  important  debate  the  next 
night,  and  Lord  Charles  said  that  if  Eleanor  would  prom- 
ise to  give  a  supper  afterwards,  that  he  would  go  down 
to  the  House  and  speak  on  the  Silk  question  ;  but  she 
said  : 

"  You  must  not  come  here  to-morrow  or  the  next  day. 
Austin  knows  that  I  cannot  receive  to-morrow.  I  have  to 
meet  my  man  of  business  to-morrow,  and  that  always  agi- 
tates me  so  that  I  am  fit  for  nothing  the  next  day.  If  any 
of  you  are  going  to  be  kind,  you  may  call  on  Tuesday  and 
ask  how  I  am,  but  I  cannot  receive  you.  I  have  passed  a 
very  happy  month.  If  we  four  young  people  should  never 
pass  such  another  together,  let  us  always  look  back  on 
this  one.     Good  night." 

The  next  month  was  not  such  a  pleasant  one  by  any 
174 


Austin  Elliot 

means.  Politics  were  becoming  embroiled.  Mr.  Disraeli 
was  saying  the  most  terrible  things,  and  Sir  Robert's  tem- 
per was  not  always  equal  to  bearing  them.  Every  one 
was  getting  hot  and  angry,  and  saying  things  they  did  not 
mean.  And  Austin,  having  less  to  do  with  the  matter  than 
most  others,  was  rather  hotter  and  angrier  than  anybody 
else.  They  saw  but  little  of  Eleanor,  and  she  for  her  part 
wished  that  the  Corn  bill  was  done  with  for  ever,  either  i 
one  way  or  another. 


Chapter  XXIV 

So  litde  did  Austin  think  about  the  matter  which  had 
troubled  him  before,  that  the  day  of  Eleanor's  monthly 
pilgrimage  would  have  passed  by  altogether  without  his 
having  noticed  it,  had  it  not  been  for  a  mere  accident,  the 
history  of  which  is  this. 

Austin  had  a  very  good  habit  of  riding  out  early  in  the 
morning  before  the  streets  were  full,  and  the  smoke  had 
setded  down ;  and  on  the  1 5th  of  April  he  woke  early,  and 
said  that  he  would  ride  out. 

He  rang  the  bell,  and  when  his  servant  came  he  or- 
dered his  horse  to  be  saddled  while  he  dressed,  and  called 
"Robin." 

The  servant  called  "  Robin  "  too,  but  Robin  was  not  in 
his  usual  place  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  and  on  further 
search  it  became  evident  that  Robin  was  not  in  the  house, 
nor  in  the  street  either. 

"  I  brought  him  in  last  night,"  said  Austin.  "  Run 
round  to  Miss  Hilton's,  and  see  if  he  is  there." 

By  the  time  Austin  had  done  dressing,  and  was  stand- 
ing on  the  doorstep,  in  a  pair  of  yellow  riding  trousers, 
and  a  blue  neckcloth,  his  man  came  back.  The  dog  was 
not  there.     It  became  evident  that  the  dog  was  stolen. 

Austin  was  vexed  and  irresolute.  At  last  a  foolish 
175 


Austin  Elliot 

scullion-wench,  in  the  lower  regions,  incautiously  volun- 
teered information.  Austin's  servants  immediately  claimed 
that  she  should  be  haled  before  him,  and  interrogated. 

She  came  upstairs  in  pattens,  with  a  mop  in  her  hand, 
her  hair  all  tumbled  and  tangled,  in  a  dreadful  fright. 
Austin's  valet  offered  to  hold  her  mop  for  her  :  she  re- 
fused. He  tried  to  take  it  from  her  ;  she  fought  him  and 
beat  him,  and  was  ushered  into  Austin's  presence,  red,  tri- 
umphant, with  her  mop  in  her  hand. 

Her  mysterious  communication  about  the  dog  amounted 
to  very  little  indeed.  She  had  found  the  dog  scratching  at 
the  door,  and  had  let  him  out  for  a  run,  "  Which  the  Milk 
had  seen  her." 

"  Find  the  policeman,  and  tell  him,"  said  Austin ;  "  as 
I  come  home  I  will  ride  round  by  James's." 

Riding  about  the  west  end  of  London  before  nine 
o'clock  on  an  April  morning  is  a  very  pleasant  pastime. 
The  streets  are  nearly  empty,  and  you  can  dawdle  as  much 
as  you  like,  while  in  Piccadilly  and  such  places  ;  the  air  — 
should  the  wind  have  anything  of  west  in  it  —  is  as  fresh 
as  it  is  in  the  country. 

Everybody's  horses  are  out  exercising,  too :  and  you  can 
see  their  legs,  eyes,  tails,  and  noses  showing  out  of  their 
clothes,  and  may,  if  you  like,  drive  yourself  mad,  by  calcu- 
lating, on  the  "  ex  pede  Herculem  "  plan  —  by  an  effort  of 
comparative  anatomy  far  beyond  Owen  —  what  sort  of 
horses  they  are,  and  how  much  they  are  worth  apiece. 
You  can  also  see  the  British  cabman  free  from  the  cares 
of  office,  and  many  other  strange  sights,  not  to  be  met 
with  later  in  the  day. 

It  was  a  very  pleasant  ride  that  Austin  had  on  this 
spring  morning.  He  rode  slowly  over  the  piece  of  wood 
pavement  between  Sackville  Street  and  Bond  Street,  and 
then  trotted  till  he  came  to  the  small  patch  opposite  Dev- 
onshire House  (both  these  are  laid  down  in  good  granite 
now),  where  there  was  a  horse  down  as  usual.  Then  he 
walked  slowly  down  the  hill,  and,  turning  into  the  newly- 
176 


Austin  Elliot 

opened  park,  had  a  gallop  along  Rotten  Row,  and,  passing 
out  by  Kensington  Gate,  began  to  feel  his  way  slowly  east- 
ward once  more. 

Through  fresh  squares,  where  the  lilac  was  already  bud- 
ding, through  squares  and  streets  which  grew  grander  and 
grander,  till  they  culminated  in  Belgrave  Square  itself,  and 
then  into  the  lower  part  of  the  town  which  lies  south-east 
of  it. 

It  is  astonishing  how  rapidly  the  town  degenerates  to 
the  south-east  of  Belgrave  Square  towards  Vauxhall 
Bridge ;  or,  to  be  more  correct,  did  degenerate,  in  those 
days.  From  great  mansions  you  suddenly  find  yourself 
among  ten-roomed  houses.  So  you  rapidly  deteriorate  to 
six  rooms,  to  four,  to  old  bankrupt  show  vans  taken  off 
their  wheels,  and  moved  on  the  waste  ground,  like  old 
worn-out  hulks  ;  and,  after  them,  dust  and  ashes,  and  old 
paper-hangings,  and  piles  of  lath  and  plaster,  and  pots 
and  kettles,  and  swarms  of  wild  children  ;  to  whom  this 
waste  of  ash-heaps  are  mountains,  and  the  stagnant  fever- 
pools,  lakes  —  who  build  here  for  themselves  the  fairy 
castles  of  childhood,  with  pot-sherds  and  oyster-shells,  and 
who  seem  to  enjoy  more  shrill  wild  happiness,  than  the 
children  of  any  other  class  in  the  community. 

Austin  paused  before  he  came  to  this  range  of  dust  Alps. 
At  the  junction  of  two  low  streets,  between  Vauxhall 
Bridge  and  Millbank,  there  stood  a  house  by  itself,  with  a 
garden  in  front,  and  a  leafless  arbour.  This  was  James's, 
and  James  himself,  in  his  shirt  sleeves,  was  in  the  front 
garden,  drowning  some  puppies  in  a  bucket. 

As  Austin  reined  up,  and  paused  before  this  house,  the 
population  turned  out  to  see  the  splendid  apparition.  Such 
a  handsome  young  gentleman,  so  nobly  dressed,  on  such 
a  beautiful  horse,  before  half-past  ten,  was  really  some- 
thing to  look  at.  Was  there  never  a  lady  of  Shalott 
among  those  busy  worn  needlewomen,  stitching  behind 
the  dirty  blinds,  who  looked  out  and  fell  in  love  with  this 
noble  young  Camelot  ?    Who  knows  ? 

177 


Austin  Elliot 

••  She  left  the  web,  she  left  the  loom, 
She  made  three  paces  through  the  room, 
She  saw  the  helmet  and  the  plume, 
And  she  looked  down  to  Camelot." 

Poor  things !  Sitting  there  feeding  on  their  own  fancies, 
month  by  month,  it  is  a  wonder  how  respectable,  as  a 
class,  these  poor  folks  are.  If  it  were  not  for  the  cheap 
novels,  what  would  become  of  them  ? 

Austin  drew  up.  Mr.  James  was  so  busy  drowning  the 
puppies  that  he  did  not  hear  him.  So  Austin  cried  out, 
"  Hallo !  " 

Immediately  he  heard  an  unknown  number  (he  says 
nine  hundred,  but  that  is  an  exaggeration)  of  dogs,  dash 
out  of  barrels  in  the  back  yard,  and  choke  themselves  with 
their  collars.  Before  they  had  got  wind  to  bark,  a  sound 
was  heard  as  of  a  strong  man  swearing.  At  which  these 
dogs  (number  unknown,  Austin  saw  afterwards  thirty-five 
bull-dogs,  and  a  cloud  of  black-and-tan  terriers,  which,  to 
use  his  own  vigorous  expression,  darkened  the  air)  all  rat- 
tled their  chains,  and  went  silently  back  among  the  straw. 

All  except  an  invisible  small  dog,  who,  from  the  volume 
of  his  voice,  seemed  to  be  the  very  dog  in  the  "  Arabian 
Nights,"  which  came  out  of  the  walnut-shell.  He  con- 
tinuing to  bark,  was  audibly  kicked  by  the  strong  man, 
and  Mr.  James,  having  drowned  the  last  puppy,  came 
towards  Austin,  hat  in  hand. 

Mr.  James,  a  great,  handsome  giant,  was,  and  is,  one  of 
the  most  remarkable  men  in  the  country.  He  was  the 
greatest  and  most  successful  cynoclept,  or  dog-dealer,  in 
England,  and  consequently  in  the  world.  If  a  Chinese 
Mandarin  had  sent  an  order  to  Mr.  James  for  a  dozen  fat, 
blue,  hairless  dogs,  to  be  cooked  for  a  fite  champetre  at 
Pekin,  Mr.  James  would  have  executed  the  order  by  the 
next  mail,  without  winking  his  eye.  Mr.  James  was  the 
greatest  dog-fancier  in  England,  and,  I  am  exceedingly 
sorry  to  say,  that  Austin  was  one  of  his  best  customers. 

I  have  hinted  at  Austin's  low  taste  for  dogs  before  this. 
178 


Austin  Elliot 

With  all  his  high  political  ambition,  this  low  taste  was  one 
black  spot  in  his  character.  He  had  an  ambition  to  possess 
the  smallest  black-and-tan  terrier  in  England,  apparently 
for  the  delectation  of  his  groom,  for  they  were  always  kept 
at  the  Mews  with  his  horses.  The  groom  became,  to  a 
certain  extent,  debauched  through  these  dogs.  Prize- 
fighters, and  far  worse,  used  to  make  court  to  that  young 
man,  and  take  him  to  public-houses,  free  of  expense,  for 
the  mere  privilege  of  handling  these  wonderful  dogs,  the 
largest  of  which  did  not  weigh  more  than  four  pounds. 
Austin  had  sometimes  given  at  the  rate  of  four  guineas  a 
pound  for  them.  Robin  had  never  considered  them  to  be 
dogs  at  all,  and  had  treated  them  accordingly. 

The  enormous  sums  paid  for  these  dogs,  and  the  fact  of 
their  being  regularly  stole  once  a  week,  and  recovered  and 
sent  home  by  Mr.  James,  had  ended  in  Mr.  James,  great 
man  as  he  was,  being  a  creature  of  Austin's.  He  consid- 
ered Austin  to  be  a  type  of  the  real  English  gentleman, 
the  last  hope  of  a  degenerate  age.  Consequently,  when  he 
had  done  drowning  his  puppies  and  saw  Austin  at  his  gate, 
he  advanced  towards  him  with  a  very  low  bow. 

"  James,"  said  Austin,  "  I  have  lost  Robin." 

"  What  o'clock,  sir  ?  " 

"  About  seven." 

"  Then  I  can't  let  you  have  him  before  to-morrow  morn- 
ing, sir.  My  cads  were  all  out  before  that.  Will  half-past 
eight  to-morrow  morning  do,  sir  ?  " 

"  It  must,  I  suppose,"  said  Austin,  "  unless  he  comes 
home  by  himself." 

Mr.  James  was  much  amused  by  this  supposition.  He 
said  that  Mr.  Elliot  would  have  his  joke ;  and  requested 
that  Austin  would  dismount. 

Austin  did  so,  and  Mr.  James  called  for  Sam.  Sam 
came.  The  invisible  strong  man  before  mentioned  —  a 
young  man,  in  his  shirt  and  trousers,  who  had  not  washed 
himself,  and  who  looked  like  a  prize-fighter  under  a  cloud 
—  which  indeed  he  was.  With  him  came  Mr.  James's 
179 


Austin  Elliot 

own  favourite  dog  —  a  white  bull-terrier,  who  smelt  Aus- 
tin's legs  and  gave  him  a  creeping  up  his  back.  After 
which  he  went  into  James's  yard  and  bought  the  dog 
which  came  out  of  the  walnut-shell  for  seven  guineas. 

Mr.  James  had  not  done  with  Austin.  It  appeared  that 
in  the  next  street,  towards  the  river,  there  was  a  dog,  be- 
longing to  a  master  sweep,  which  Mr.  Elliot  must  see,  if 
he  wanted  to  know  what  a  dog  was.  Austin,  having  given 
a  shilling  to  the  obscured  prize-fighter,  who  was  waiting 
for  an  opportunity  to  wash,  mounted  his  horse  and  accom- 
panied Mr.  James  and  Mr.  James's  bull-terrier. 

The  master  sweep  was  in  his  gateway,  and  between  his 
legs  was  a  white  bull-terrier,  exactly  like  Mr.  James's. 
Mr.  James  took  his  dog  by  the  neck,  the  sweep  did  the 
same.  Austin  called  out,  "  James,  I  won't  have  it !  "  but 
it  was  too  late,  the  dogs  were  at  one  another's  throats,  and 
the  douce  respectable  Mr.  James  was  transformed  into  a 
shouting  blackguard  ;  while  Austin  found  himself,  in  spite 
of  his  feelings  of  shame,  looking  on  at  the  most  brutal 
sport  in  the  world.  Every  man  who  sets  two  dogs  to  fight, 
ought  to  be  beaten  with  a  good  thick  stick. 

Whether  it  was  that  the  residence  of  such  a  great  cyno- 
clept  as  Mr.  James  had  debauched  the  neighbourhood 
and  given  to  it  a  tendency  to  keep  surreptitious  dogs :  or 
whether  the  fact  of  its  being  what  Mr.  Dickens  calls  a 
"  shy  "  neighbourhood,  with  infinite  facilities  of  sending 
all  dogs  to  play  with  the  children  on  the  dust-heaps,  in  the 
rear,  on  the  appearance  of  the  taxgatherer,  induced  every 
householder  in  these  parts  to  keep  a  dog,  I  know  not.  But 
there  was  a  dog  in  every  house ;  and  the  moment  the  sound 
of  the  fight  began,  they  rushed  forth  to  see  the  fun.  Some 
leaped  out  of  the  windows  of  garrets,  where  they  had  been 
confined  for  their  sins ;  others  walked  staggeringly  along 
the  tops  of  walls,  bristling  with  glass  bottles  ;  some  squeezed 
themselves,  panting,  through  impossible  places ;  and  one 
fell  into  a  water-butt,  where  he  paddled  and  sneezed,  until 
his  mistress  took  him  out  by  his  tail,  and  banged  him  about 
i8o 


Austin  Elliot 

the  head  with  her  shoe ;  but  the  result  was,  that  Austin, 
standing  there  on  horseback,  with  the  hope  of  stopping  the 
cruel  work  at  the  first  opportunity,  found  that  his  horse's 
legs  were  in,  as  it  were,  a  bath  of  dogs,  who  yelped  and 
snapped  and  snarled  round  the  two  rearing  combatants  in 
the  midst. 

And  then  suddenly  he  became  aware  that  his  own  dog 
Robin  was  in  the  midst  of  them.  Whether  he  had  dropped 
from  the  skies,  or  risen  out  of  the  earth  he  knew  not,  but 
there  was  Robin  —  his  own  Robin  —  going  round  and 
round  the  dogs,  and  through  and  through  the  dogs,  asking 
this  one,  how  it  came  about,  and  that  one,  who  was  getting 
the  best  of  it,  and  another  one  what  they  had  better  do  ? 
Robin  —  gay,  handsome,  rollicking  Robin  —  was  there, 
making  himself  agreeable  to  the  ladies,  giving  the  best 
advice  to  the  gentlemen,  under  the  very  nose  of  his  own 
master's  horse,  not  having  recognised  either  horse  or  mas- 
ter in  his  excitement. 

Austin  heard  some  one  call  the  dog  by  name  behind 
him.  He  turned  round,  and  he  felt  sick  and  faint,  as  well 
he  might. 

For  there,  in  the  midst  of  all  this  squalid  black-guardism, 
was  Eleanor  —  Eleanor  herself.  She  was  dressed  in  com- 
mon, almost  shabby,  clothes.  Her  veil  was  up,  and  her 
eyes  were  red  with  weeping ;  and  on  her  face  was  the  very 
expression  which  he  had  expected  to  see  there  on  this  very 
day  of  the  month  —  worn  anxiety,  grief,  and  shuddering 
terror. 

She  was  standing  on  the  pavement  feebly  crying, "  Robin ! 
Robin  !  "  but  when  she  saw  his  face  she  cried  out, "  Austin, 
Austin  !  come  to  me ! " 


l8l 


Austin  Elliot 


Chapter  XXV 

Austin  caught  Mr.  James's  assistant,  and  got  him  to 
lead  his  horse  home.  And  in  the  next  moment  he  was  by- 
Eleanor's  side,  and  Robin  was  bounding  gladly  around 
them.  She  took  his  arm,  and  they  walked  homewards 
together. 

Poor  Eleanor  was  very  much  distressed,  and  agitated. 
She  had  her  veil  down,  and  was  crying,  and  Austin  gently 
comforted  her.  When  she  had  partly  recovered  from  her 
tears,  she  said,  "  It  was  so  naughty  of  Robin  to  run  away 
from  me  after  those  dogs."  Austin  would  have  liked  to 
ask  an  explanation  of  her  appearance  there,  but  he  did  not 
like  to.  Eleanor  was  very  much  distressed  and  hysterical, 
and  he  wisely  held  his  tongue. 

Nevertheless,  he  was  very  much  inclined  to  be  angry 
with  her.  She  had  been  going  to  church  a  great  deal 
lately,  —  going  on  week  days  too,  —  and  always  to  what 
he  would  have  called  '  Tractarian  '  churches.  Once  she  had 
asked  him  if  he  would  be  angry,  if  she  were  to  turn  Papist. 
Now  Austin's  sole  religious  creed  at  this  time,  was  a  polit- 
ical hatred,  derived  from  his  father,  of  the  '  Catholics,'  and 
never  having  risen  so  high  in  religious  thought  as  Tracta- 
rianism,  he  felt  a  nearly  equal  jealousy  of  them.  He  got 
it  now  into  his  head,  that  Eleanor  had  some  spiritual  ad- 
viser, either  very  High  Church,  or  Papist,  who  had  per- 
suaded her  to  take  these  monthly  journeys  in  this  garb,  to 
this  neighbourhood,  on  the  grounds  of  religious  mortifica- 
tion. It  was  by  no  means  an  unnatural  conclusion.  He 
was  inclined  to  be  angry  with  her,  and  determined  to  argue 
with  her  on  the  folly  of  it. 

He  was  very  much  inclined  to  be  angry.  He  had  very 
nearly  succeeded  in  making  himself  so,  when  she  pressed 
his  arm,  and  said, 

"  Are  you  angry,  Austin  ?  " 
182 


Austin  Elliot 

"  No,"  he  said,  —  "I  mean  yes.  I  am  furiously  angry, 
my  darling.  How  do  you  think  that  you  can  please  God, 
by  appearing  in  such  a  place  as  that  where  I  found  you,  in 
such  a  dress  ?  Don't  you  suffer  penance  enough  at  home, 
every  day  of  your  life,  without  allowing  a  priest  to  bind  a 
grievous  burden  on  your  back,  which  he,  himself,  would 
not  touch  with  one  of  his  fingers  ?  " 

Ah  !  if  she  had  told  him  the  truth  !  She  saw  his  error. 
She  saw  that  he  thought  she  was  making  some  kind  of 
religious  pilgrimage,  and  she  encouraged  his  error.  In  her 
deep  love  for  him,  in  her  anxiety  for  his  honour  and  fame, 
she  encouraged  it.  It  was  not  so  very  long  after  this,  that 
sitting  at  her  dressing-table,  she  noticed  that  her  hair  was 
slightly  grey.  She  put  down  her  brushes,  and  thought  of 
her  foolish,  foolish  falsehood. 

"  Austin,"  she  said,  "  let  me  get  to  heaven  my  own  way. 
Don't  talk  of  this  again.  If  you  were  sick,  or  in  prison, 
would  I  not  visit  you  ?  " 

He  comforted  her,  and  said  no  more  about  it,  and  in- 
deed, after  a  few  days,  did  not  think  very  much ;  for  there 
was  much  to  think  about  elsewhere,  of  a  far  different 
sort. 

The  tiresome  iteration  of  the  Corn-law  debate  began,  as 
time  went  on,  to  be  relieved  by  fiercer  and  fiercer  person- 
alities. Honourable  members  were  saying  things  to  one 
another,  such  as  they  had  not  said  since  1831,  and  have 
not  said  since.  In  the  House  it  was  bad  enough,  but  in 
the  clubs  it  was  worse,  by  all  accounts.  Honourable  and 
gallant  Members  at  the  Carlton,  were  threatening  to  pitch 
Right  Honourable  Members  and  future  Chancellors  of 
Exchequer  out  of  window,  in  the  direction  of  the  Reform 
Club.  "  Or  did  so,  in  at  least  one  instance,"  as  Mr.  C — 
might  say,  in  hedging  a  general  statement  of  this  kind,  and 
might  also  continue,  "  future  Exchequer  Chancellor  not 
pitched  out  of  window  after  all.  Honourable  major,  threat- 
ening that  same,  hereafter  apologising  with  a  certain  leonine 
simplicity  and  honesty,  not  without  grandeur.  On  which 
183 


Austin  Elliot 

occasion,  also,  we  find  that  leonine  major  savagely,  and 
with  feline  snarl  (yar-r-r !  To  thy  Cairn,  Vermin,  lest  a 
worse  thing  befal  thee)  turning  on  a  certain  too  eager 
jackal  of  his,  a  Captain  Hertford.  Jackal  apparently 
(judging  from  infinite  annual  register,  and  newspaper-file 
crudities)  without  even  the  jackal-merit  of  cunning.  Only 
merit,  apparently,  having  teeth,  and  biting  nobler  than  he. 
But  a  poor  thing  in  jackals,  now  happily  passed  away  into 
limbo,  for  evermore  let  us  hope." 

To  add  to  the  confusion,  in  this  same  pleasant  month  of 
May,  an  opinion  began  to  obtain,  among  those  who  were 
in  the  same  position,  of  knowing  but  little  about  the  mat- 
ter, but  of  talking  a  great  deal :  that  although  the  bill  was 
safe  enough  in  the  Commons,  it  was  not  safe  in  the  Lords. 
This  caused  a  great  deal  of  fidgety  irritation,  and  Lord 
Charles  Barty  went  about  (to  use  a  trope)  with  a  pan  of 
burning  charcoal  on  his  head,  threatening  utter  annihila- 
tion to  his  order,  should  they  impudently  dare  to  follow 
their  own  convictions. 

In  the  midst  of  it  all,  Mr.  Smith  O'Brien,  driven  to  the 
verge  of  madness  at  not  making  a  sensation  equal  to  his 
merits  (O'Connell  extinguished  a  year  since  in  a  blaze  of 
high-handed  justice,  and  no  successor  of  sufficient  men- 
dacity and  talent  appearing),  conceived  the  noble  idea  of 
refusing  to  sit  on  Saxon  railway-committees,  and  got  him- 
self shut  up,  in  more  ways  than  one,  if  the  reader  will 
forgive  a  piece  of  harmless  slang.  He  was  rewarded  for 
his  heroism,  by  appearing  the  next  week  in  perhaps  the 
best  caricature  va  Punch  —  "  The  Naughty  Boy  who  didn't 
care." 

Altogether,  in  this  month  of  May,  people  were  getting 
unwisely  excited  about  this  Corn-bill,  and  non-electors  be- 
gan to  stand  about  at  street-corners  and  discuss  it  in  a 
loud  voice  :  which  is  an  ugly  symptom,  in  a  close-packed 
city  of  two  millions,  the  most  open  part  of  it,  a  mere  Saint 
Antoine,  not  cut  up  east,  west,  north,  and  south  by  the 
boulevards  of  a  paternal  Government,  anxious  to  remain  a 
1S4 


Austin  Elliot 

Government.  People  were  getting  very  much  excited  in 
the  House  and  out  of  the  House ;  and  what  would  have 
happened  in  1848  if  the  Lords  had  thrown  out  the  Bill,  we 
are  almost  afraid  to  think. 

In  the  middle  of  all  this,  Lord  George  Bentinck  got  up 
and  made,  what  we  must  all,  I  think,  confess,  a  most  ter- 
ribly telling  speech  against  Sir  Robert  Peel.  He  unluckily 
tried  his  hand  on  a  proposition  about  the  admission  of 
oats,  showing  a  degree  of  ignorance  or  carelessness  almost 
incredible  in  a  man  aspiring  to  lead  a  party.  Mr.  Goul- 
burn  went  about  with  him  amidst  the  laughter  of  the 
House.  In  the  discussion  which  ensued.  Captain  Hert- 
ford spoke  for  a  few  minutes,  and  succeeded  in  making 
Lord  George's  case  worse  than  before.  The  instant  he 
sat  down  Lord  Charles  Barty  was  on  his  legs. 

It  is  possible  that  the  House  was  relieved  to  find  the 
quarrel  transferred  to  two  such  insignificant  members  as 
Captain  Hertford  and  Lord  Charles  Barty.  At  all  events, 
they  appeared  so.  Lord  Charles  did  not  speak  well ;  he 
did  not  speak  like  himself.  His  heart  was  so  full  of  furi- 
ous animosity  against  this  man  Hertford,  that  he  said 
things  he  ought  not  to  have  said.  He  insulted  Captain 
Hertford,  and  there  were  cries  of  order.  He  had  gone  too 
far,  when  he  sat  down  again  beside  Mr.  Huddersfield  the 
lawyer,  radical  member  for  a  city  in  the  West ;  that  gentle- 
man said  to  him,  "  You  have  gone  too  far,  Barty.  That 
man  will  have  you  out." 

But  Captain  Hertford  took  no  notice  of  it.  People  were 
saying  all  sorts  of  things  about  one  another  just  then. 
Lord  Charles  had  not  said  anything  about  Captain  Hert- 
ford, imich  worse  than  what  Mr.  Disraeli  had  said  of  Sir 
Robert. 

Austin  had  that  evening  led  Lord  Edward  Barty  up  into 
the  gallery,  and  they  two  had  heard  it  all.  When  the  debate 
was  over,  and  they  were  waiting  for  Lord  Charles  in  the 
old  place  under  the  end  of  Henry  VII.'s  chapel.  Lord  Ed- 
ward said  — 

185 


Austin  Elliot 

•'  Austin,  Charles  has  insulted  that  man.  He  will  have 
a  message  to-morrow  morning." 

Austin  said  he  hoped  not.  No  message  came.  And 
then  poor  blind  Lord  Edward  got  an  idea  into  his  darkened 
head,  which  he  acted  on,  the  full  effect  of  which  we  shall  see. 

We  are  obliged,  however,  to  follow  Captain  Hertford 
on  his  way  home  this  evening.  We  wish  we  could  take 
the  reader  home  in  better  company. 

If  any  one  had  been  able  to  see  in  the  moonlight  the 
vindictive  scowl  that  was  on  his  coarse  face,  they  would 
have  augured  ill  for  any  one  who  should  venture  to  thrust 
his  company  on  the  Captain  in  an  obtrusive  manner  that 
night.  A  handsome  young  Frenchman,  either  not  know- 
ing or  not  caring  what  his  state  of  mind  might  be  ;  came 
up,  took  him  by  the  arm,  and  burst  into  the  most  exagger- 
ated form  of  French  laughter. 

"  Ha !  ha !  but  Milor  used  you  sadly,  my  dear  friend. 
By  the  prophet,  but  he  laughed  at  the  most  sacred  beard 
of  my  own  Hertford.  Come,  let  us  shoot  him.  How  say 
you,  is  Milor  to  be  kill  ?  " 

Captain  Hertford  showed  no  outward  irritation  at  this 
man's  presence  or  manner.     He  answered  quietly  enough. 

"  Milor  may  go  hang,  rot,  anything  he  likes,  for  the 
present,  my  friend.  Commilfaut,  where  have  you  sprung 
from  ?  " 

"  From  the  gallery  of  the  imperial  Parliament  of  Great 
Britain,  where  I  have  been  listening  to  the  burning,  furious, 
and  yet  lucid  eloquence  of  my  friend  Hertford  on  ze  oat. 
'Twas  a  droll  subject,  but  *  nihil  tetigit  quod  non  ornavit,' 
like  Doctor  Goldsmiss  in  the  triste  old  Abbey." 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,  Commilfaut." 

"  I  will  not  when  I  am  dead  and  buried,  perhaps.  Till 
then  fool  I  shall  always  be,  dear  Captain.  Come  and  play 
the  billiard  —  one  game  —  by  dam  !     Only  one  game." 

After  a  few  moments'  consideration.  Captain  Hertford 
said  yes,  and  they  went  towards  a  billiard-room  near  the 
bridge,  which  was  still  open,  at  all  events  to  the  Captain. 
i86 


Austin  Elliot 

The  billiard-marker  tvas  a  rather  gentlemanly-looking 
young  man,  though  with  a  decidedly  dissipated  air  about 
him.  Some  day,  some  wise  man  will  write  the  lives  of 
eminent  billiard-markers.  It  ought  to  be  a  very  interest- 
ing book,  for  the  lives  of  most  of  them  have  been  singular- 
ly erratic  and  tragical. 

They  began  playing,  and  talked  about  indifferent  mat- 
ters in  English  ;  but  after  a  time  Monsieur  De  Commilfaut 
having  made  a  hit,  turned  to  the  marker  and  said  in 
French :  "  That  was  a  good  stroke,  was  it  not  ?  " 

The  marker  looked  stupidly  at  him  and  said,  "  I  beg 
your  pardon,  sir  .^  "  M.  De  Commilfaut  repeated  the  ques- 
tion, and  the  marker  turned  with  a  puzzled  air  to  Captain 
Hertford  for  explanation. 

"  The  man  don't  understand  French,  don't  you  see," 
growled  the  captain  ;  "  go  on." 

"  I  perceive  that  the  pig-headed  brigand  does  not,  as 
you  remark,  understand  the  language  of  Europe ;  which 
is  a  charming  discovery,  as  we  can  now  discuss  a  few 
little  matters,  which  I  would  be  glad  to  have  discussed." 
This  was  said  in  French,  and  from  this  time  the  conver- 
sation was  carried  on  in  French,  a  language  which  Cap- 
tain Hertford  spoke  like  his  mother  tongue. 

"  And  how  is  my  sweet  cousin  }  "  said  De  Commilfaut. 

**  She  is  a  fool,"  said  Captain  Hertford  sulkily. 

"  She  is.  She  don't  appreciate  me.  Has,  in  fact,  re- 
fused me  an  absurdly  small  loan  of  nine  thousand  francs. 
Eleanor  Hilton  is  a  young  lady  of  incorrigibly  bad  taste. 
She  prefers,  for  instance,  you  to  me.  Can  anything  be 
worse  taste,  my  Captain  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  I  suppose,"  said  the  Captain,  wincing. 
"  Women  are  strange  creatures  ;  they  will  sometimes  like 
a  man  better  than  a  monkey." 

The  Frenchman  was  so  delighted  with  this  elegant  sally 
of  the  Captain,  that  he  went  into  the  wildest  fit  of  laugh- 
ter. He  gave  his  cue  to  the  stupid  marker,  sat  on  a  bench, 
and  laughed  till  he  cried.  After  a  time  he  took  his  cue 
187 


Austin  Elliot 

again  in  a  feeble  manner,  but  before  he  could  strike  the  ball 
the  fit  came  on  again,  and  he  laughed  till  he  cried  again  ; 
by  degrees  he  became  quieter,  and  went  on  with  his  game. 

"  But  I  am  glad  to  hear,  my  little  pig  —  if,  as  you  say  in 
your  Parliament,  you  will  allow  me  to  call  you  so  —  that 
you  are  at  the  best  with  this  infinitely  rich,  espiegle,  but 
very  obstinate  little  cousin  of  mine,  Eleanor  Hilton ;  and 
for  this  reason  among  others,  that  since  she  has  refused 
me  (by  the  mouth  of  an  aged  mountebank,  whose  ears 
should  be  served  up  au  gratin  at  the  devil's  next  dinner 
party)  this  trifling  loan,  I  am  at  this  moment  '  in  nu- 
bibus,'  which  means  under  ze  cloud,  unclassical  cabbage  !  " 

At  this  moment  the  marker  broke  out  into  a  short 
laugh,  and  they  both  quickly  turned  on  him.  The  marker 
explained. 

"  The  French  gentleman  has  played  your  ball,  sir.  I 
always  notice  that  too  much  talk  don't  do  at  billiards  any 
more  than  at  whist." 

The  mistake  was  rectified,  and  they  resumed  the  game 
and  the  conversation  still  in  French. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Captain  Hertford,  "  that  you  are  go- 
ing to  mention  my  little  debt  to  you  }  " 

"  His  little  debt !  Holy  grey  !  the  wealth  of  these  island- 
ers !     Forty  thousand  francs  a  little  debt !  " 

"  /  don't  call  it  a  little  debt !  It  is  a  mode  of  speech," 
said  Captain  Hertford.  "  You  cannot  get  blood  out  of  a 
stone,  though,  my  friend." 

"  Alas,  no  !  I  know  it.  For  this  reason  I  am  over- 
whelmed with  joy  to  hear  that  you  are  at  best  with  our  de- 
termined little  cousin ;  that  you  are  about  marrying  her, 
and  about  paying  me  my  poor  forty  thousand  francs." 

"  You  will  have  your  money  if  you  wait,"  said  Captain 
Hertford,  sulkily.  "  I  shall  certainly  marry  her,  and  you 
will  be  paid  in  good  time." 

"  I  am  sure,  dear  Captain.  She  has,  then,  thrown  over- 
board this  handsome  young  scoundrel  —  this  Elliot  ?  " 

"  No,  she  has  not." 

i88 


Austin  Elliot 

"  I  shall  watch  your  play,  then,  with  the  greater  anxiety. 
I  have  seen  him  —  he  is  amazingly  handsome  —  and  I 
have  seen  them  together.  I  followed  her  when  she  was 
leading  a  blind  Milor,  a  Sir  Edward,  and  she  met  him  — 
this  Elliot  —  and  I  watched  her  ;  and  I  have  had  my  good 
fortunes  like  another,  and  I  can  see.    And  she  loves  him." 

"  I  am  quite  aware  of  it,"  said  Captain  Hertford. 

"  And  what  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

"  You  asked  me  to-night,"  replied  the  Captain,  "  why  I 
did  not  take  a  shot  at  Lord  Charles  Barty,  for  his  cursed 
insolence  in  the  House.  I'll  tell  you  why.  If  I  had  out 
Lord  Charles  Barty,  and  even  hit  him,  it  would  necessitate 
a  slight  seclusion  abroad,  and  the  leaving  the  field  in  the 
hands  of  the  enemy.  I  am  waiting  for  an  opportunity  of 
insulting  this  fellow  Elliot,  and  killing  him." 

*'  Recommending  yourself  to  my  little  cousin's  good 
graces  by  killing  her  lover,"  said  the  Frenchman.  "  Well, 
I  have  heard  of  that  succeeding.  But  that  course  also, 
my  friend,  will  involve  a  temporary  seclusion  in  the  centre 
of  European  thought  and  intellect,  Paris  ;  and  our  cousin 
will  be  left  to  lead  about  the  blind  Milor,  and  will,  as  I 
hear,  probably  take  the  veil,  which  will  be  the  devil  itself." 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Captain  Hertford.  "  If  she  was  got 
away  from  Elliot  and  his  confederate.  Lord  Charles  Barty 
(who  would,  too,  were  he  his  second,  have  to  retire  also), 
her  aunt  could  bring  her  abroad,  and  we  might  do  anything 
with  her.  Marker,  go  and  fetch  me  some  soda-water  and 
brandy." 

The  marker  departed. 

"  Do  you  suspect  he  understands  French,  then  ?  "  said 
Commilfaut. 

"  No ;  but  one  can't  be  too  cautious.  If  that  girl  re- 
fuses to  marry  me,  I  have  a  secret  of  hers  which  is  worth 
three  thousand  a-year  to  me." 

"  And  what  is  that  ?  " 

"  Dear  friend,"  said  Captain  Hertford,  "  would  it  be  a 
secret  if  I  told  it  you  ?  " 

189 


Austin  Elliot 

"  Why  no,"  said  the  good-natured  rascal  of  a  French- 
man, laughing, "  only  remember  my  forty  thousand  francs, 
or  I  will  force  you  to  challenge  me,  and  choose  swords, 
old  cabbage." 

And  so  these  worthies  departed,  infinitely  satisfied.  But 
their  interview  compels  me  to  call  attention  to  a  little  story 
which  I  have  to  tell.  And  which  I  will  tell  as  dramatically 
as  I  can,  so  that  it  may  not  be  dull. 

This  billiard-room,  where  these  two  worthies  had  just 
held  their  villanous  conversation,  was  at  that  time  the 
nearest  billiard-room  to  the  House  of  Commons. 

Austin  Elliot  was  exceedingly  fond  of  two  things.  The 
one  of  hearing  debates  in  the  houses,  the  other  of  playing 
billiards.  When  waiting  for  a  debate  to  come  on,  what 
more  natural  than  that  he  should  beguile  the  time  with  a 
game  of  billiards  ?  Still  more  natural  that  he  should  play 
his  billiards  at  the  house  nearest  handy,  so  as  to  run  off  at 
any  time.  More  natural  yet,  that  he  should,  with  his 
hearty  manner  and  open  hand,  get  well  known  there,  say 
very  well  known  to  the  proprietor  Perkins. 

At  this  point  in  our  narrative,  we  must  go  back  to  a  pe- 
riod ten  years  antecedent,  and  begin  all  over  again. 

When  Austin  and  Lord  Charles  were  at  Eton,  there  had 
been  an  agreeable  plucky  boy  there,  whom  they  both  knew, 
by  name  Mapleton.  This  boy  had  gone  to  Brasenose,  Ox- 
ford, and  from  thence  to  the  dogs  :  horribly  in  debt,  disap- 
pearing into  outer  darkness  ;  having,  in  fact,  in  his  wander- 
ings, rambled  into  that  land  in  which  policemen  and  low 
persons  of  that  kind  have  power.  It  was  a  sad  business  — 
the  only  thing  to  do  was  to  forget  that  such  a  lad  ever  lived. 

But,  about  six  months  before  this  time,  Austin  had  re- 
ceived a  letter  from  this  lad  Mapleton,  out  of  the  Queen's 
Bench,  praying  for  help  for  the  sake  of  old  acquaintance  ; 
and  Austin  had  gone  away  to  him  at  once,  with  his  good 
heart  full  of  old  school  recollections,  steadily  ignoring  all 
later  passages  in  this  lad's  life.  Only  reflecting  that  he 
might  be  saved  yet. 

190 


Austin  Elliot 

He  heard  the  young  man,  Mapleton's  story,  he  paid  the 
debt  for  which  he  was  in  prison,  and  both  he  and  Lord 
Charles  promised  that  if  he  should  deserve  it  they  would 
help  him  up  the  ladder  again. 

At  this  time  it  happened  that  the  then  billiard-marker 
at  Perkins'  forged  Perkins'  name  for  96/.  10s.,  and  got  the 
money.  He  found  this  so  pleasant,  it  being  vacation  time, 
and  billiards  slack,  that  he  begun  to  steal  the  billiard  balls 
by  twos  and  threes,  and  sell  them  in  Greek  Street,  Soho. 
This  thriving  also,  and  the  96/.  being  capital  untouched, 
he  stole  Perkins'  cashbox,  and  absconded.  But  remem- 
bering that  there  was  one  more  set  of  new  balls  left,  he, 
so  to  speak,  ««-absconded  again,  and  came  back  to  fetch 
them.  But  the  measure  of  his  sins  being  full,  it  fell  out 
that  Perkins  met  him  on  the  stairs  and  essayed  to  arrest 
him.  They  fell  downstairs  together,  Perkins  cut  his 
head  open  against  the  umbrella-stand,  and  the  marker 
would  have  escaped,  had  not  Mrs.  Perkins  rushed  out  of 
the  parlour,  stunned  him  with  the  hearth-broom,  and  got 
in  the  police.  After  this  there  was  no  marker  at  Perkins' 
but  Perkins  himself;  who  pathetically  told  Austin  and 
Lord  Charles,  that  his  tobacco  business  was  going  to  the 
very  deuce  for  want  of  a  billiard-marker,  and  they  both 
cried  out,  "  Mapleton,"  and  Mapleton  came,  and  stole  no 
cash-boxes  ;  but  passed  on  into  higher  walks  in  life  after 
a  time. 

And  this  was  the  young  marker  who  marked  for  Cap- 
tain Hertford  and  M.  De  Commilfaut,  the  night  they  had 
their  important  conversation.  Add  to  this  that,  in  conse- 
quence of  five  years'  Continental  experience,  more  or  less 
disreputable,  he  understood  French  better  than  Captain 
Hertford,  and  from  old  Eton  recollections,  knew  a  little 
more  Latin  than  M.  De  Commilfaut;  which  made  him 
nearly  betray  himself,  at  the  Frenchman's  new  construc- 
tion of  z'n  nubibus. 

No  wonder,  then,  that  he,  only  now  the  poor  ghost  of 
what  he  might  have  been,  or  what  he  might  be  yet,  but 
191 


Austin  Elliot 

with  his  poor  weak  heart  full  of  gratitude,  took  his  post 
in  front  of  Cheshire  House,  very  early  next  morning. 

By  and  by  the  Duke  came  out,  rosy  and  fresh,  eager  to 
get  some  pure  air  before  the  smoke  came  down  ;  to  take 
his  two  turns  round  the  square,  and  his  look  in  at  his 
stables,  and  wish  to  goodness  he  was  back  at  Esham, 
among  his  beasts.  Next  came  Lord  Edward,  blindly 
staring,  with  his  hand  on  his  valet's  shoulder,  away  to  the 
north-east  for  prayers  at  Margaret  Street.  Lastly,  Lord 
Charles,  in  white  trousers,  tall,  handsome,  and  gay,  going 
one  knows  not  whither ;  ready  in  his  happy,  youthful  vital- 
ity, to  go  anywhere  where  a  gentleman  might.  Him  the 
poor  billiard-marker  stopped,  and  into  his  attentive  ear 
poured  all  he  could  remember  of  the  last  nights'  conversa- 
tion. 


Chapter  XXVI 

All  he  could  remember.  It  amounted  to  this  —  as  far 
as  Lord  Charles  could  understand  it  —  that  this  billiard- 
marker  had  heard  Captain  Hertford  say  that  he  intended 
to  provoke  Austin  and  shoot  him  :  and  that  he  (the  Cap- 
tain) was  assured  that  Eleanor  would  marry  him,  as  soon 
as  that  was  accomplished.  With  all  the  poor  fellow's 
eager  honesty,  he  made  a  game  of  "  Russian  scandal  "  of 
his  information  after  all. 

The  marker  and  Lord  Charles  Barty  played  at  Russian 
scandal  with  a  vengeance.  Lord  Charles  thought  that  if 
he  were  to  tell  Austin  of  it  first  hand,  there  would  be  a 
furious  outbreak  on  Austin's  part,  and  that  there  would  be 
a  duel,  in  which,  as  a  matter  of  course,  Austin  would  be 
shot  stone  dead  by  Captain  Hertford.  So  he  went  up  and 
waited  outside  of  the  chapel  till  his  blind  brother  came 
out,  and  told  him  (with  Russian  scandal  variations),  and 
they  both  agreed  that  Lord  Edward  should  tell  the  story 
to  Austin,  softening  it  in  every  way  ;  just  to  put  him  on 
192 


Austin  Elliot 

his  guard  against  quarrelling  with  Captain  Hertford,  until 
there  had  been  a  grand  consultation  as  to  what  the  three 
friends  were  to  do. 

Blind  Lord  Edward  performed  his  commission  (in  the 
Russian  scandal  way) ;  he  contrived  to  make  Austin  un- 
derstand, that  Captain  Hertford  had  in  a  public  billiard- 
room,  in  the  presence  of  witnesses,  asserted  that  he  was 
engaged  to  Eleanor,  and  also,  that  he  was  only  waiting  for 
an  opportunity  to  pick  a  quarrel  with  Austin,  and  shoot  him. 

About  the  first  part  of  this  communication  Austin 
laughed  heartily ;  about  the  second  he  looked  very  grave. 

"  Edward  Barty,"  he  said,  *'  surely  you  do  not  distrust 
Eleanor  ?  " 

"  I  would  answer  for  her  with  my  life,"  said  the  blind 
man. 

"  And  I,"  said  Austin.  **  This  Hertford  is  a  creature  of 
hers.  She  paid  his  election  bills.  He  knows  something 
which  she  wishes  to  have  hidden  from  me.  That  is  the 
reason  of  their  familiarity.  I  will  challenge  her  about  it, 
and  have  it  explained.  But  I  know  her  well  enough  to 
know  that  the  idea  of  her  marrying  him  is  preposterous, 
mad,  not  to  be  entertained  by  a  sane  man.  She  hates 
him.  She  knows  and  despises  him  as  well  as  we  do.  I 
am  surprised  that  you  should  have  even  repeated  such  a 
report  to  me." 

"  Dear  Austin,"  said  Lord  Edward,  "  we  are  all  agreed 
about  that  part  of  the  matter;  no  one  is  anxious  about 
that ;  it  is  about  you  that  we  are  anxious.  /  have  no 
doubt  but  that  Captain  Hertford  believes  that  if  he  could 
get  you  out  of  the  way,  and  get  Aunt  Maria  to  take  her 
abroad,  that  he  would  have  his  way.  He  believes  that  we 
know  Eleanor  too  well.  But,  old  boy,"  continued  Lord 
Edward,  feeling  out  into  his  eternal  darkness  for  Austin's 
well- loved  face,  "  If  the  dog  shot  you,  in  pursuing  his  vil- 
lanous  plan,  what  would  there  be  left  for  the  rest  of  us 
but  misery  and  remorse,  and  impatient  waiting  for  death, 
that  we  might  feel  your  dear  hands  again  }  " 
193 


Austin  Elliot 

There  was  no  one  to  see  the  expression  on  Austin's  face 
now  —  an  expression  seen  by  Captain  Hertford  two  years 
ago  on  that  face  at  Tyn-y-Rhaiadr,  and  to  be  seen  by 
the  worthy  Captain  once  more  —  an  expression  of  mingled 
fury  and  fear.     He  burst  out  with  a  snarl  — 

"  Damn  him  !  Is  he  the  only  man  who  can  shoot  with 
a  pistol  ?  What  sort  of  country  is  this  we  live  in,  that  a 
dog  like  that,  by  possessing  a  certain  dexterity  —  a  dex- 
terity which  a  Sikh  Soubadhar,  or  a  French  chevalier 
d'industrie,  could  communicate  to  my  own  groom  — 
should  hold  the  happiness  of  us  all  in  his  hand  like  this  ? 
By  God,  Edward,  it  is  shameful !  Nothing  to  be  said, 
nothing  to  be  done,  but  by  the  grace  of  this  low  blackleg, 
who  has  the  one  accomplishment  of  hitting  a  man  at 
twelve  paces  with  a  pistol  ball !  " 

"  It  is  an  inevitable  evil,  Austin." 

"  It  is  not  inevitable.  The  land  is  groaning  under  the 
system  of  the  duel,  and  the  land  will  be  rid  of  it.  Curse 
on  the  fool  who  invented  it,  and  a  curse  on  all  fools  who 
follow  it.  Therefore,  Edward,  a  curse  on  myself ;  for  let 
him  beware,  I  will  play  Best  to  his  Camelford  —  mark  me, 
I  will ! " 

"  I  only  know  this,"  said  Lord  Edward,  "  that  I  will  not 
have  it ;  you  shall  not  go  out  with  that  man.  I  will  take 
measures — " 

"  Your  measures,  my  poor  Eddy,"  said  Austin,  "  would 
only  necessitate  my  blowing  my  own  brains  out  instead  of 
his.  Remember,  that  any  step  taken  to  prevent  a  meeting 
between  this  man  and  me,  after  what  has  passed,  can  only 
end  in  utter  irretrievable  ruin  to  me." 

"  I  know !  I  know !  alas  how  well !  But  you  will  be 
careful,  Austin." 

"  I  will  not  go  within  a  hundred  yards  of  the  man,"  said 
Austin,  "  my  anger  is  over  in  that  last  burst.  If  you  could 
see  my  face,  you  would  know  it." 

At  this  time  they  were  walking  arm-in-arm  round  the 
garden  in  Grosvenor  Square. 
194 


Austin  Elliot 

"  See  your  face ! "  said  Lord  Edward,  "  aye,  I  wish  ] 
could  see  your  face.  Does  it  seem  strange  to  you,  tc 
know  a  man  who  does  not  know  what  seeing  means  ?  ] 
was  bom  blind,  you  know,  and  ever  since  I  could  think  ] 
have  tried  to  compare  the  things  I  love.  They  have  tolc 
me  that  you  were  beautiful,  and  I  have  tried  to  realize  youi 
face.  Sometimes  I  have  thought  that  it  was  like  the 
scent  of  violets,  sometimes  like  the  noise  I  hear  on  the 
terrace  at  Esham  on  a  summer  evening,  when  the  chil- 
dren are  playing  on  the  village  green  down  below ;  and 
sometimes  when  you  and  Charles  get  wild  over  your  poli- 
tics, that  it  is  like  the  mad  scream  of  Ernst's  fiddle,  when 
he  makes  all  the  muscles  of  your  back  tingle,  and  the 
nerves  about  your  face  quiver  again.  What  a  fool  yot 
would  be,  if  you  were  blind,  Austin." 

So  Captain  Hertford,  by  such  talk  as  this,  was  removed 
millions  of  miles  from  Austin's  consideration.  But  when 
his  clothes  were  off  and  he  was  horizontal  in  bed,  the  in- 
exorable Captain  reappeared.  And  Robin,  the  dog,  whc 
slept  with  Austin,  got  impressions,  whether  of  thieves  or 
fire  I  know  not,  which  made  him  sit  up  till  morn,  and 
pant ;  for  which  he  got  his  reward  from  the  boot-rack  at 
various  times  in  the  night ;  but  still,  after  divers  more  or 
less  dexterous  retreats  from  flying  boots,  he  sat  up  and 
panted  conscientiously  until  morning  dawned. 


Chapter  XXVII 

What  was  to  be  done  ?  Lord  Charles,  his  brother, 
and  Austin  all  consulted,  and  the  answer  was,  "  Nothing 
as  yet."  What  couM  be  done  ?  The  very  slightest  mo- 
tion on  their  part  would  bring  on  the  very  meeting  they 
dreaded  ;  unless  they  resorted  to  civil  protection,  in  which 
case  there  would  be  absolutely  nothing  to  be  done,  accord- 
ing to  their  code,  but  for  Austin  to  blow  his  brains  out. 

195 


Austin  Elliot 

Poor  Lord  Edward,  sitting  in  eternal  darkness,  not 
being  able  to  know  men's  faces  and  what  expression  ac- 
companied such  and  such  words,  formed  a  project  which 
no  one  but  a  blind  man  or  a  madman  would  have  formed. 
His  project  was  this,  to  speak  to  Captain  Hertford  himself. 
He  had  been  in  Captain  Hertford's  company  three  or  four 
times,  and  always  when  Eleanor  was  present.  He  had 
never  seen  his  cruel,  gluttonous  face,  and  he  had  only 
heard  his  voice  ;  and  the  Captain's  voice,  in  the  presence 
of  Eleanor,  his  benefactress,  was  not  so  unpleasant.  It 
was  subdued  to  a  sulky,  respectful  sort  of  growl.  And 
judging  from  his  voice  alone,  and,  pluming  himself  on  his 
shrewdness.  Lord  Edward  came  to  the  conclusion  that  he 
was  not  quite  so  bad  as  the  others  wanted  to  make  him 
out ;  that,  at  all  events,  he  would  try  what  could  be  done 
with  him.     I  must  tell  you  how  he  fared. 

Captain  Hertford's  plan  of  operations  just  at  this  time 
was  most  certainly  nearly  the  same  as  that  which  he  un- 
folded to  the  Frenchman  at  the  billiard-table.  But  we 
must  remember  that  he  was  a  stupid  man,  whose  cunning 
was  of  a  very  low  order.  He  had,  as  he  most  truly  said, 
a  secret  of  Eleanor's  by  which  he  might  extort  money 
from  her  ;  but  when  that  secret  was  known  to  Austin,  as 
he  felt  sure  it  would  be  on  the  very  day  of  their  marriage, 
he  had  cunning  enough  to  know,  that  it  would  be  worth 
much  less  in  Austin's  hands  than  in  hers.  Moreover, 
were  Austin  out  of  the  way,  and  he  safe  abroad,  he  felt 
sure  that  Aunt  Maria  had  still  power  enough  to  scold 
Eleanor  into  going  abroad,  in  which  case  he  hoped  to  get 
her  to  consent  to  marry  him. 

Here  is  where  the  man's  low  cunning  failed  him  utterly. 
Eleanor  had  always  been  so  gentle  and  so  kind  to  him,  for 
the  sake  of  what  he  had  done  for  her  and  for  the  power 
that  he  still  held  in  his  hands  ;  that  the  fool  never  dreamed 
that  she  loathed  his  presence,  and  that  she  hated  the  day 
when  she  first  saw  him. 

Eleanor,  in  addition  to  her  own  terrible  domestic  troubles 
196 


Austin  Elliot 

—  tangible  every-day  troubles  —  which  she  and  her  faith 
ful  old  footman  bore  patiently  together;  had  got,  fror 
her  native  shrewdness,  a  terror  lest  Captain  Hertfori 
should  conceive  the  plan  of  doing  exactly  what  he  wa 
thinking  of  doing  now  —  involving  Austin  in  a  quarre 
killing  him,  and  getting  her  abroad,  under  the  sole  pro 
tection  of  her  aunt,  whose  madness  was  developing  day  b 
day. 

That  is  what  was  the  matter  with  Aunt  Maria.  Sh 
was  getting  mad.  Her  fierce  fits  of  scolding  were  becora 
ing  fiercer,  and  sometimes  her  maid  would  come  up  ter 
rified  into  Eleanor's  room  in  the  dead  of  night,  and  the 
two  would  listen  to  the  dreadful  old  woman  scolding  awa 
to  herself  below,  as  if  her  maid  was  present. 

Poor  Eleanor  did  not  know  which  way  to  turn  amoni 
all  these  terrible  apprehensions.  But  she  made  a  solemi 
vow  to  herself,  —  that  if  Austin  were  killed  and  she  force( 
abroad,  that  she  would  embrace  the  Popish  faith,  and  clain 
the  protection  of  the  good  Archbishop  of  Paris,  whom  sh( 
knew. 

So  that  as  Captain  Hertford's  scheme  stood  at  present 
she  would  have  utterly  wrecked  it.  But  Lord  Edwan 
Barty  changed  the  Captain's  scheme,  and  it  was  never  pu 
in  execution.  Captain  Hertford  formed  another  one,  ani 
we  shall  see  how  that  succeeded. 

One  pleasant  morning  in  this  May  month,  date  I  shouh 
say  about  the  12th,  Eleanor  and  the  worthy  Captain  sa 
together  in  Eleanor's  drawing-room  in  Wilton  Crescent 
They  were  quite  silent.  Some  commonplaces  had  passed 
Hertford  had  brought  her  some  Cape  jessamine,  and  sh( 
had  thanked  him,  and  relapsed  into  silence,  wondering 
whether  he  had  anything  to  say ;  rather  wishing  he  woulc 
go,  but  on  the  whole  taking  rather  more  notice  of  Robin 
who  had  come  to  her  on  a  furtive  visit,  than  of  the  honour 
able  and  gallant  gentleman. 

Her  regular,  rather  small  features,  had  become  some^ 
what  pinched  and  worn  lately,  and  her  air  was  a  littlt 
197 


Austin  Elliot 

languid.  Her  eyes  were  as  brilliant  as  ever,  but  her 
mouth  was  more  closely  set ;  and  altogether  her  face  was 
more  marked,  and  she  looked  older.  She  had  had  not 
very  much  of  artificial  education,  but  she  had  inherited  a 
certain  grace  of  posture  from  her  mother,  and  I  know  not 
how  many  grandmothers  and  great-grandmothers.  Every 
attitude  which  she  put  herself  into  was  graceful.  Her 
present  one  was  very  much  so,  it  was  the  one  in  which 
one  most  commonly  saw  her :  sitting  in  perfect  repose, 
with  her  hands  folded  on  her  lap,  without  one  fold  in  her 
drapery  awry  or  out  of  place.  She  had  the  art  of  sitting 
absolutely  still  for  any  length  of  time  with  the  most  perfect 
grace ;  and  that  is  a  most  difficult  and  rare  art,  and  also  a 
most  useful  one. 

It  puzzled  Hertford  on  this  occasion.  He  had  some- 
thing to  say  to  her,  but  he  was  a  very  stupid  man,  and  he 
never  could  start  a  subject  of  conversation  without  assist- 
ance. On  this  occasion  he  got  none ;  judging  from  ap- 
pearances, and  knowing  her  as  well  as  he  did,  there  did 
not  appear  the  slightest  reason  why  Eleanor  should  not  sit 
in  that  posture,  with  her  hands  folded  in  her  lap,  in  that 
exasperating  manner,  for  the  next  two  hours.  The  Cap- 
tain got  angry,  and  at  last  he  said,  —  "I  beg  your  par- 
don. Miss  Hilton." 

Eleanor  merely  turned  her  head,  and  looked  at  him  with 
an  expression  of  languid  curiosity.  She  changed  her  at- 
titude, but  it  was  only  more  graceful  than  before.  Hert- 
ford had  to  go  on  — 

"  There  is  a  knock  at  the  door.  I  am  glad  of  it,  for  it 
will  cut  me  short.  I  have  to  thank  you  for  your  extraor- 
dinary generosity  about  my  election  business.  I  am  grate- 
ful, I  assure  you." 

"  My  dear  Captain  Hertford,"  she  said  quietly,  '*  no  one 
could  have  deserved  my  assistance  more  than  yourself.  I 
will  always  be  your  friend,  as  long  as  you  deserve  it." 

The  door  was  opened,  and  James  snarled  out,  — 

"  Lord  Eddard  and  Lord  Chawls.  That  gal  Susan  have 
iq8 


Austin  Elliot 

dropped  my  best  cut  water- jug  and  broke  it.  She  were  a 
washing  on  it  at  the  scullery  sink,  and  she  let  go  on  it, 
and  down  it  come.  Says  she's  all  of  a  tremble  'cause  she 
dreamt  last  night,  as  the  carpenter  she  keeps  company  with 
in  the  country,  cut  her  throat  with  a  bevilling-plane,  and 
buried  her  body  in  a  old  saw-pit.  Drat  her,  I  wish  he 
had."  And  having  said  this,  he  departed,  and  banged  the 
door  behind  him,  while  Eleanor's  face  was  lit  up  with  a' 
smile. 

On  seeing  Hertford,  Lord  Charles  paused  for  an  instant, 
and  consequently  Lord  Edward,  who  had  his  hand  on  his 
brother's  neck,  and  was  being  led  by  him,  paused  too.  A 
singular  pair.  Both  very  handsome,  singularly  alike  in 
feature,  dressed  similarly  from  top  to  toe ;  and  yet  with 
such  a  strange  difference  between  them.  Charles  had  a 
pair  of  bright,  honest  blue  eyes  —  Edward  was  stone-blind. 
Looking  at  Lord  Charles  first,  and  then  at  his  brother,  had 
the  same  effect  as  if  you  looked  at  the  well-known  face  of 
a  dear  friend,  and  immediately  after  at  a  sightless,  staring, 
marble  bust  of  him. 

"  Miss  Hilton,"  said  Lord  Charles,  "  I  have  piloted  Eddy 
here  ;  he  says  you  will  take  him  to  church.  Do,  that's  a 
dear  soul,  for  I  must  go.     Good-bye." 

Hertford  had  risen  too,  and  when  Lord  Charles  was 
gone,  looked  towards  the  door ;  Eleanor  said,  —  "  Captain 
Hertford,  would  you  mind  stopping  —  I  have  something 
to  say  to  you  ?  "     And  on  this  the  Captain  sat  down  again. 

The  bell  was  even  now  ringing  for  church,  and  Eleanor 
must  hurry  away,  and  put  on  her  bonnet ;  and  so  Lord 
Edward  was  left  alone  with  Captain  Hertford,  and  Hert- 
ford sat  and  stared  at  the  blind  man,  who  groped  his  way 
to  the  piano,  and  began  softly  playing  snatches  of  sacred 
music.  He  had  never  been  introduced  to  Captain  Hert- 
ford. There  was  no  reason  why  Captain  Hertford  should 
speak  to  the  brother  of  the  confounded  puppy  who  had 
insulted  him,  and  so  he  sat  and  stared  at  those  sightless 
eyes. 

199 


Austin  Elliot 

Those  sightless  eyes!  The  darkened  windows  of  a 
house  in  which  sight  Hes  dead,  shrouded  in  grave-clothes 
of  strange  misconceptions,  until  the  dawn  of  the  Resur- 
rection shall  begin  to  gleam  in  the  East,  and  the  dead  shall 
rise  upon  their  feet.  The  eyes  of  the  blind  are  more  awful 
to  look  at  than  the  eyes  of  the  dead. 

Yes,  more  awful.  The  eyes  of  the  dead  have  looked, 
(at  one  time),  upon  the  earth  in  which  their  time  of  proba- 
tion has  been  passed,  and  their  eyes  have  carried  the  out- 
ward semblance  of  their  fellow  men,  into  their  soul.  But 
the  blank  staring  eyes  of  those  who  have  been  born  blind, 
have  looked  on  nought  but  darkness  from  the  beginning  : 
and  the  soul  imprisoned  behind  them,  has  only  groped 
about  in  the  night  of  its  living  tomb ;  and  has  learnt  to 
love  only  by  the  sense  of  hearing  and  touch. 

What  a  strange  riddle  the  earth  must  be  to  a  man  born 
blind.  We  all  know  of  the  blind  man,  who  thought  that 
red  was  like  the  sound  of  a  trumpet ;  and  we  remember  it, 
because  it  was,  in  some  sort,  a  good  guess.  But  think 
what  a  puzzle  the  whole  world  must  be  to  a  man  in  this 
state.  Try  to  remember  if  you  have  ever  awaked  at  night, 
in  pitch  darkness  ;  and  how  the  nibbling  of  a  mouse  was 
to  you  the  stealthy  working  of  the  burglar's  centre-bit ; 
and  the  rustle  of  a  few  withered  leaves  in  the  night  wind, 
became  the  fierce  crackle  of  burning  beams. 

Try  to  think  of  a  man  in  a  chronic  state  of  misconcep- 
tion, and  do  not  blame  Lord  Edward  Barty  for  what  he  did. 

Living  in  a  very  §mall  circle,  under  his  terrible  afflic- 
tion, with  few  hopes,  few  amusements  ;  his  source  of  in- 
formation, the  being  read  to  by  his  valet  —  he,  labouring 
under  the  consciousness  of  a  want  of  information,  avoided 
conversation  and  society.  By  this  means  he  had  not  got 
the  great  lesson  which  society  teaches,  —  knowledge  of 
the  value  of  words  ;  and  so  — 

And  so  —  after  playing  at  the  piano  for  a  time,  he  stood 
up.  Captain  Hertford  sat  at  the  other  end  of  the  room, 
and  silently  watched  him. 

2QO 


Austin  Elliot 

"  What  a  devilish  curious  thing,"  thought  Captain  Hert- 
ford, "  to  be  always  in  the  dark,  like  that  fellow." 

Lord  Edward  began  to  feel  over  the  nearest  table  to 
him,  with  his  fingers,  as  though  looking  for  something. 
Captain  Hertford  was  right.  There  was  something  very 
strange  and  weird  in  watching  the  long  fingers  wandering 
about  among  the  china  and  bijouterie,  or  what  not,  which 
lay  on  the  various  tables  ;  something  very  strange  in  that 
beautiful  darkened  face ;  which,  with  an  instinct,  the 
depth  of  which  no  man  can  fathom,  was  always  turned 
towards  those  white  hands,  which  its  eyes  had  never  seen  ; 
and  never  would  see. 

"  It  is  uncommon  curious  to  think  of,"  thought  the 
Captain,  "  but  that  fellow  has  never  seen  any  other  fellow 
in  his  whole  life.     There  is  something  very  horrid  about  it." 

There  was.  Lord  Edward  was  feeling  his  way  softly 
round  the  table,  towards  Captain  Hertford,  in  sightless 
silence,  getting  nearer  and  nearer  every  instant  with  his 
long  thin  fingers  ;  it  was  very  horrid.  Hertford  held  his 
breath,  and  felt  a  strange  creeping  come  over  him.  One 
of  his  big  hands  was  on  the  table,  and  Lord  Edward's  long 
hands  were  coming  slowly  towards  it,  feeling  their  way 
through  the  books,  and  press-papers,  and  paper-knives,  — 
and  yet  Captain  Hertford  kept  his  hand  still  on  the  table  ; 
there  was  a  kind  of  fascination  about  the  blind  man's  eyes. 

At  last,  Lord  Edward  touched  his  hand,  he  took  it  up 
in  his,  and  Hertford  did  not  resist.  Lord  Edward  spoke, 
and  Captain  Hertford  listened,  listened  to  strange  words, 
words  which  at  first  made  him  sit  dumb  with  terror,  brave 
man  as  he  was. 

"  Feeling  about  in  the  everlasting  darkness  which  sur- 
rounds me,"  said  Lord  Edward,  "  I  have  come  across  the 
hand  of  a  man.  It  is  a  hand  which  has  held  a  sword,  and 
used  that  sword  at  the  gates  of  death.  It  is  the  hand  of  a 
brave  man.  And  yet  that  hand  will  soon  be  slippery  with 
innocent  blood.     It  will  be  the  hand  of  a  murderer  soon  ! " 

Before  Captain  Hertford  had  made  up  his  mind  whether 

20I 


Austin  Elliot 

or  no  the  man  who  was  talking  was  a  madman,  as  well  as 
blind,  the  other  went  on. 

"  Captain  Hertford  !  I  cannot  prevent  you  killing 
Austin  Elliot.  It  were  almost  better  that  he  should  be 
dead,  than  that  he,  with  his  feelings  of  honour,  should  live 
on,  if  I  were  to  interfere  and  prevent  you  fighting  him.  I 
do  not  speak  of  him.  I  speak  of  yourself.  I  know  that 
you  have  laid  a  plot  to  assassinate  him.  Every  detail  of 
your  plot  is  known  to  me.  That  rascally  gambling  cousin 
of  Eleanor's,  that  Commilfaut,  might  be  brought  into 
court  to-morrow  to  convict  you  of  a  conspiracy.  You  are 
quite  in  my  hands  if  anything  should  happen  to  Austin ; 
but  I  am  held  down  from  taking  steps  to  save  him,  for  the 
reasons  I  have  mentioned.  I  only  tell  you  this,  that  if 
anything  does  happen  to  him,  nothing  shall  save  you.  If 
you  were  ever  on  any  provocation  to  fight  him  after  this, 
nothing  could  save  you.  I  am  in  possession  of  your  whole 
scheme,  Hertford  ;  now  what  will  you  do  ?  " 

It  seemed,  from  the  expression  of  the  Captain's  face, 
had  any  one  seen  it,  that  what  he  would  do,  would  be  to 
take  Lord  Edward  by  the  throat,  and  beat  his  brains  out 
against  the  wall.  All  he  said  was,  "  Wait,  my  lord  — 
wait,  will  you  ?  You  are  presuming  very  considerably  on 
your  infirmity." 

"  Not  I.  I  am  quite  without  fear,  I  assure  you.  If  my 
life  would  save  Austin's  I  would  gladly  give  it.  I  will 
wait.  Think  for  a  little,  Captain  Hertford,  and  tell  me 
what  you  mean  to  do." 

Captain  Hertford  saw  quickly  that  he  was  in  a  scrape. 
That  if  they  had  got  hold  of  his  conversation  with  Com- 
milfaut, it  would  be  impossible  for  him  to  fight  Austin, 
without  incurring  far  more  serious  penalties  than  those 
consequent  on  an  ordinary  duel.  He  felt,  in  one  instant, 
that  his  plan  of  having  Austin  out  and  shooting  him,  was 
gone  to  the  winds.  He  gave  it  up.  Austin  was  safe  from 
that  moment,  2/"  ^e  had  sense  to  stay  in  England. 

But  Lord  Edward's  words,  coming  as  they  did  upon  the 
202 


Austin  Elliot 

strange  fit  of  superstitious  terror,  arising  from  the  fact  of 
his  creeping  towards  him  in  that  strange,  silent  way,  had 
raised  a  very  mad  devil  in  him.  It  is  a  mere  silly  truism, 
a  thing  hardly  worth  repeating  to  an  intelligent  person, 
that  bad  people  are  never  so  cruelly  vindictive,  as  when 
they  are  recovering  from  a  fit  of  terror.  He  would  have 
liked  to  revenge  himself  on  Lord  Edward,  but  that  was 
impossible.     But 

But  there  was  Lord  Edward's  brother.  He  could  hit 
him  hard  there.    They  talked  of  enforcing  the  laws  against 

duelling,  but  was  not  P acquitted  ?     They  would  not 

dare  to  do  more  than  they  ordinarily  did  on  such  occa- 
sions, if  he  had  out  Lord  Charles  Barty.  The  young  prig 
who  had  insulted  him  in  the  House,  till  even  the  Whigs 
called  order.  Now  he  rapidly  began  to  reflect,  now  that 
his  rage  was  turned  that  way,  that  his  reputation  would 
be  a  ragged  one  if  he  did  not.  It  would  be  a  political  duel. 
He  had  precedent  here.  Canning  and  Londonderry ;  Wel- 
lington and  Winchelsea.  Yes,  that  handsome  young  dandy 
should  be  scapegoat.     He  had  brought  it  on  himself. 

And  also  Austin  would  have  to  go  abroad,  if  anything 
happened.  And  Messieurs  the  French  Officers  were  dex- 
terous, and,  yes,  on  the  first  blush  of  it,  it  would  do.  So 
he  spoke. 

"  Lord  Edward." 

"I  listen." 

'•  I  will  take  an  oath  to  you.  Austin  Elliot  shall,  if  he 
be  so  minded,  spit  in  my  face,  and  I  will  not  go  out  with 
him,  unless  he  comes  abroad.     Will  that  content  you  ?  " 

"  I  always  said,"  said  Lord  Edward,  "  that  you  were 
not  a  bad  man.  I  thank  God  I  am  right.  Let  me  call 
you  my  friend.  Captain." 

"  No,  I  will  not  do  that.  You  have  insulted  me,  and  in 
a  cowardly  way,  because  you  knew  I  could  not  resent  it. 
I  will  not  meddle  with  you.  You  have  a  shrewd  tongue, 
Lord  Edward." 

And  before  they  had  time  to  say  anything  more,  uncon- 
203 


Austin  Elliot 

scious  Eleanor  came  in  ready  for  church,  and  led  off  Lord 
Edward.  They  went  to  church,  and  sat  like  two  stone 
angels  through  it  all,  until  some  one,  who  had  come  up 
from  Oxford,  played  out,  in  a  triumphant  hurling  storm  of 
sound  ;  and,  when  the  last  echo  had  done  humming  in  the 
roof,  they  waited  together  at  the  bottom  of  the  organ-loft 
stairs,  till  they  heard  the  well-known  sound  of  his  wooden 
leg  stumping  down ;  and,  after  an  affectionate  greeting, 
carried  him  off  to  lunch  at  Eleanor's. 

And  this  was  the  result  of  Lord  Edward's  interview 
with  Captain  Hertford. 


Chapter  XXVIII 

It  was  a  wild  week  this  which  followed.  The  "  non- 
electors,"  who  had  begun  by  merely  sneering  at  Peel's  ter- 
giversation, and  rather  laughing  at  the  Bill ;  now  had  got 
earnest  about  it,  in  one  way  or  another,  and  were  showing 
a  slight  tendency  to  congregate.  The  more  intelligent 
among  them  had  found  out,  or  had  thought  they  had 
found  out,  what  the  intention  of  the  Bill  was.  The  great 
fact  that  the  duty  was  to  be  reduced  at  once  from  sixteen 
to  four  shillings,  was  enough  to  excite  them  somewhat, 
for  bread  was  dear.  Their  excitement  was  over  pretty 
much  on  Saturday  morning  when  the  Bill  was  passed, 
though,  as  far  as  this  story  is  concerned,  the  Corn-bill  was 
never  passed  at  all.  It  luas  read  a  third  time  at  four  on 
Saturday  morning,  but,  before  we  come  to  that  period,  we 
shall  not  be  thinking  much  about  corn  bills. 

Austin  was  in  a  very  vexed  and  excited  state  that  week, 
and  he  said  it  was  the  Bill ;  nay,  more,  he  actually  believed 
it  was  the  Bill,  with  which  he  had  nothing  whatever  to  do, 
not  even  having  a  vote  for  Westminster.  He  was  excited 
and  angry  about  Captain  Hertford. 

There  was  no  doubt  about  one  thing,  according  to  the 
204 


Austin  Elliot 

code  of  honour  of  those  times.  Austin  had  heard  of 
threats  uttered  against  him  by  a  bully  and  an  enemy,  and 
had  taken  no  notice  of  them. 

This  consideration  was  driving  him  mad  all  that  week. 
He  felt  like  a  guilty  man.  What  would  the  world  say  if 
they  knew  all  ?  If  they  knew  that  he  was  in  possession 
of  Captain  Hertford's  language  about  him,  and  knew  that 
he  had  not  noticed  it.     It  was  terrible. 

"  What  would  the  world  say  if  it  knew  all  ?  "  Unluck- 
ily the  world  knew  a  little  too  much  ;  and,  as  to  what  it 
would  say,  Austin  found  that  out  on  Thursday. 

Lord  Charles  was  in  his  rooms  with  him  in  the  after- 
noon, and  making  or  trying  to  make  Robin  sit  up  in  a  cor- 
ner and  hold  a  pipe  in  his  mouth.  His  father  had  given 
his  sister  Minny  a  dog  on  her  birthday,  a  spaniel  dog,  with 
long  drooping  ears  on  each  side,  like  the  speaker's  wig, 
which  would  sit  up  and  smoke  a  pencil-case  ;  and  so,  why 
should  not  Austin's  dog?  Which  circumstance  shows 
that  this  desperate  young  Jacobin  thought  of  something 
else  beside  the  salvation  of  his  country. 

Austin  was  very  silent  and  anxious.  Whatever  he 
thought  about,  the  question  always  came  back.  What 
would  they  think  if  they  knew  1 

Presently  a  man  came  in ;  an  old  friend ;  a  very  tall, 
awkward  man  ;  a  man  who  at  Eton  had  been  a  long  sham- 
bling lad,  whose  shoes  were  always  coming  off,  and  who 
never  could  be  taught  to  swim,  or  to  row,  or  to  do  any- 
thing in  that  line,  except  get  in  the  way.  A  fellow  who 
was  always  getting  his  eye  blacked  at  cricket,  and  his  ankle 
sprained  at  football.  A  fellow  who  was  always  top  of  his 
form,  and  was  always  up  half  the  night  doing  other  lads' 
impositions  (or  whatever  they  call  those  inflictions  at  Eton). 
A  fellow  who  was  always  getting  into  trouble  for  some  one 
else;  who  would  have  died  sooner  than  betray  another 
boy.  Who,  as  a  boy,  had  been  beloved,  reverenced,  and 
bullied  by  every  one  who  knew  him ;  a  maker-up  of  quar- 
rels ;  a  pleader  at  school  with  masters,  at  the  University 
205 


Austin  Elliot 

with  dons ;  a  high-hearted,  noble  creature,  whose  shoes 
were  never  tied,  whose  hair  was  always  tangled,  whose 
coat  was  never  brushed,  who  went  on  till  he  developed  into 
one  of  the  shrewdest  and  most  clear-headed  lawyers  of  the 
day.  Early  in  his  career  he  had  been  christened  "  Daddy," 
which  name  always  stuck  to  him,  and  will  stick  to  him,  even 
if  he  gets  on  the  bench. 

He  had  been  to  the  United  University  Club,  and  had 
heard  conversation  there  which  made  him  go  and  seek 
Lord  Charles.  He  had  found  Lord  Edward,  and  having 
told  him  what  was  the  matter,  had  heard  from  him  of  his 
last  conversation  with  Captain  Hertford.  He  had  at  once 
determined  to  speak  to  Austin  himself.  Also,  hearing  of 
what  passed  on  that  occasion,  he  thought  that  Austin  was 
perfectly  safe,  or  he  would  have  cut  his  tongue  out  sooner 
than  say  what  he  did. 

"  Austin,  I  have  been  at  the  Club.  Charles  Barty,  attend 
to  me,  and  leave  that  dog  alone.  They  have  been  talking 
of  you  there." 

"  Aye  !  "  said  Austin. 

"  Yes ;  a  certain  blackleg  bully  has  been  taking  your 
name  in  vain  ;  and  they  were  wondering  why  you  have  not 
noticed  it.  I,  as  a  man  of  peace ;  a  man  who,  if  need 
were,  would  make  no  more  of  falling  on  this  man  Hertford, 
and  beating  him  myself,  sooner  than  that  anything  should 
happen  to  you ;  I,  even  I,  think  that  you  ought  to  notice  it. 
Go  about  with  this  fellow,  in  some  public  place,  and  bring 
him  to  account.  If  I  did  not  know  that  he  will  not  take  it 
up,  but  will  put  his  tail  between  his  legs,  for  uncommonly 
good  reasons,  I  would  not  give  this  advice ;  you  know  I 
would  not.  Go  about  with  him,  and  force  him  to  deny 
what  he  has  said.     I  will  go  bail  that  nothing  follows." 

So  sadly  right,  so  sadly  wrong. 

"  What  has  he  been  saying  ?  "  said  Austin,  quietly. 

"  Well,  go  down  to  the  Club  and  ask  the  men  there.  I 
will  not  tell  you.  Well,  he  has  been  coupling  his  own 
name  and  Miss  Hilton's." 

206 


Austin  Elliot 

"  Indeed ! "  said  Austin. 

"  Yes,  old  boy,  and  you  should  contradict  him,  if  only 
for  her  sake.  Don't  go  too  far.  Send  him  quietly  to  his 
kennel,  and  he  will  go.  If  he  don't,  send  him  to  me.  I 
will  not  have  you  talked  of  by  a  fellow  like  that.  Now, 
good-bye,  go  to  the  Club." 

And  so  he  went.  Lord  Charles  rose,  and  began  walking 
up  and  down  the  room,  looking  very  grave,  as  soon  as  they 
were  alone. 

And  Austin  said  "  Well !  " 

Lord  Charles  said,  "  Well,  Austin." 

"  There  is  no  doubt  about  it  now,  I  think  you  will 
allow." 

"  I  am  afraid  not.  I  am  afraid  you  must  do  it.  God 
help  us.  All  this  that  Daddy  says  about  his  not  having 
you  out,  may  be  true,  or  may  be  moonshine.  Whichever 
it  is,  you  must  tax  him  with  what  he  has  said.  You  may 
have  to  go  out  with  him.  However;  it  will  be  time 
enough  to  think  of  that,  when  he  asks  you :  which  Daddy 
says  he  won't." 

"  I  don't  care  which  way  it  goes  now.  I  am  perfectly 
happy  again,"  said  Austin.  "  Charles,  for  the  last  day  I 
have  felt  like  a  thief ;  now,  that  I  am  committed  to  the 
adventure,  I  am  myself  again.  I  ought  to  have  been 
committed  to  it  two  days  ago.  It  is  not  too  late  to  rem- 
edy that.  Let  us  go  down  to  the  Club,  and  talk  as  loud 
of  Hertford  as  he  has  talked  of  me.  My  reputation  will 
be  right  again  in  ten  minutes.  Wait  for  me  till  I  brush 
my  hair." 

When  Lord  Charles  was  left  alone,  he  sat  for  a  few  min- 
utes with  his  hand  on  Robin's  neck.  And  then  he  bent 
down  his  head  on  the  table,  and  prayed. 

What  strange  kind  of  prayer  was  that.^  Was  it  a 
prayer  for  guidance  }  No.  It  must  have  been  a  prayer 
for  mercy  and  forgiveness.  For  he  had  made  the  reso- 
lution to  watch  Austin  and  Captain  Hertford,  lest  they 
should  come  together ;  to  insult  Captain  Hertford  himself, 
207 


Austin  Elliot 

and  go  out  with  him ;  and  to  save  Austin  at  the  sacrifice 
of  his  own  life. 

Why  ?  Ah !  that  is  hard  to  answer.  Some  natures,  how- 
ever darkened  with  regard  to  a  higher  system  of  morality, 
have  in  them  a  kind  of  dull,  blind  chivalry,  which  will  lead 
them  to  all  lengths ;  and,  at  five-and-twenty,  if  we  can 
remember  so  long  ago,  friendships  are  very  warm.  Why 
is  Bill  led  out  of  the  dock  to  ten  years'  penal  servitude,  be- 
cause he  won't  turn  evidence  against  Tom  ?  Explain  me 
the  one  thing,  and  I  will  explain  you  the  other.  I  take  it 
that  Bill  and  Lord  Charles  Barty  act  from  much  the  same 
motives,  only  that  Bill  would  not  have  wilfully  compassed 
the  death  of  a  fellow-creature.  Lord  Charles  Barty 's  life 
is  a  more  graceful  one  to  write  about  than  Bill's,  with  his 
beer  and  his  skittles,  and  his  vague  notion  that  the  police- 
man, protector  of  society,  is  also  the  enemy  of  mankind. 
But,  ah  !  what  a  poor  fellow  would  he  be  who  would  not 
acknowledge  that  both  are  capable  of  most  chivalrous 
devotion. 

Perhaps  the  advantage  lies  with  Lord  Charles  in  this ; 
that  he  would  actually  go  to  death  for  his  friend ;  whereas 
poor  Bill,  were  it  a  capital  matter,  would,  after  standing  all 
day  in  the  hot  court,  staring  with  eager  eyes,  hot  lips,  and 
lowering  face  at  the  counsel  for  the  prosecution ;  and  with 
the  same  hot  lips,  but  with  more  eager  eyes  at  his  own 
counsel,  —  after  all  this,  I  say,  would,  in  the  end,  not  being 
held  up  by  a  certain  something  which  some  call  chivalry ; 
give  way  and  tell  the  truth  for  the  sake  of  dear  life :  and 
would  afterwards  go  away  a  free  man  and  take  to  drink- 
ing, and  drown  himself  ultimately  in  the  Regent's  Canal, 
as  the  only  solution  :  which  we  can  only  hope  he  will  not 
find  to  be  an  eminently  unsatisfactory  one. 

Lord  Charles's  resolution  was  taken,  and  when  Austin 
had  brushed  his  hair  and  had  come  back,  Austin  only  saw 
that  he  looked  grave,  and  wished  that  he  had  looked  gayer. 

"  Come,  cheer  up,  Charles,"  said  Austin, "  I  am  not  dead 
yet     Faithless  friend,  you  ought  to  keep  up  my  spirits." 
208 


Austin  Elliot 

Lord  Charles  smiled,  but  did  not  laugh. 

"  I  know  why  you  can't  laugh,  old  fellow,"  said  Austin. 
"  Do  you  think  I  could  laugh  if  I  was  going  out  with  you  ? 
Come  on,  let  us  go  to  the  Club  and  kick  up  the  preliminary 
row." 

So  they  went.  At  the  club,  among  the  old  University 
set,  such  few  of  them  who  happened  to  be  there,  Austin 
expressed  his  intention  of  morally  or  physically  pulling 
Captain  Hertford's  nose  to-morrow,  which  was  quite  satis- 
factory. Lord  Charles  slipped  away  and  went  to  Captain 
Hertford's  lodgings  in  Pall  Mall. 

An  obtuse  maid,  being  inquired  of,  represented  that  the 
Captain  was  not  at  home,  that  he  had  gone  out  of  town 
that  afternoon,  that  he  had  gone  to  Malta  on  business,  by 
the  two  o'clock  train,  but  would  be  back  to  dinner  the  next 
day  at  five.  This  being,  on  the  face  of  it,  an  impossibility, 
in  the  present  imperfect  state  of  our  international  commu- 
nication ;  it  became  necessary  to  call  in  the  Captain's  land- 
lord Runciman.  The  King  of  Bootmakers  deposed  that 
the  Captain  had  been  down  to  Malsam,  the  town  he  rep- 
resented, to  see  if  the  other  member,  Mr.  Nogo  (C),  would 
be  well  enough  to  come  up  and  vote ;  and  that,  also,  the 
Captain  would  most  certainly  be  back  late  the  same  night, 
and  that  the  maid's  story  about  his  coming  back  the  next 
day  at  five,  was  a  fiction. 

The  next  morning  Lord  Charles,  never  for  one  instant 
flinching  from  his  purpose,  rose  somewhat  earlier  than 
usual,  and  having  dressed  himself  with  great  care,  and 
after  taking  a  few  turns  in  a  certain  passage,  knocked  at 
the  nursery-door,  and  at  once  passed  in. 

He  was  greeted  with  a  wild  cry  of  welcome.  His  little 
brothers  and  sisters  were  in  the  position  of  "  being  got  up," 
and  were  strewed  about  like  rosy  apples.  Two  of  them, 
still  in  their  night-gowns,  were  dramatizing  a  scene  in  real 
life,  which  was  at  the  same  moment  enacting  in  another 
part  of  the  room  ^-  that  is  to  say,  they  had  stripped  a  doll 
stark  naked,  and  were  washing  it  in  a  washhand  basin  — 
209 


Austin  Elliot 

a  process  which,  (her  bust  being  of  wax,  and  the  rest  of 
her  being  of  calico  and  sawdust)  rendered  her  unavailable 
in  her  capacity  of  doll,  for  evermore.  Another  was  sitting 
up  in  his  crib,  and  was  driving  four-in-hand  to  the  "  Star" 
at  Richmond,  with  a  pair  of  list  garters,  lent  by  the  young- 
est nursemaid ;  and  another  was  being  tubbed.  This 
fellow  leaped  from  the  hands  of  nurse  to  embrace  his 
brother ;  but  seeing  the  door  open  and  the  way  clear,  some 
sort  of  devil  entered  into  him,  and  caused  him  to  run, 
stark  naked  as  he  was,  violently  down  stairs.  He  reached 
the  hall  with  great  success,  but  was  captured  by  a  solemn 
young  footman,  and  led  back  again  in  a  proud  and  vain- 
glorious state  of  mind.  Half-way  up  the  stairs  he  bit  the 
footman,  who  hoped  that  his  lordship  was  not  going  to  be 
naughty ;  which  speech,  being  addressed  by  a  very  tall 
man  to  a  naked  child  of  three,  struck  Lord  Charles  as  won- 
derfully funny.  Meanwhile,  above  stairs,  while  all  the 
nurses  were  out  on  the  landing  looking  for  the  fugitive, 
Lady  Florence  held  a  regatta  in  the  hip-bath  with  her 
brothers'  and  sisters'  shoes,  three  of  which  were  unfortu- 
nately swamped  and  sunk. 

Lord  Charles  kissed  them  all.  His  brother  George  was 
at  Eton,  and  his  eldest  brother.  Lord  Wargrave,  in  Italy ; 
so  nothing  remained  but  to  see  his  father  and  mother. 

His  father  was  in  high  feather.  Lord  (somebody  or 
another)  had  accepted  his  offer  for  a  certain  mare.  She 
had  been  sent  home,  and  he  invited  Lord  Charles  to  come 
down  to  Esham  on  a  secret  journey  with  him,  and  see  her. 
Lord  Charles  pleaded  the  debate,  and  his  father  wondered 
whether  poor  Edward  would  like  to  come.  At  all  events, 
he  might  get  some  flowers  from  the  gardener,  and  give 
them  to  that  quiet  little  girl  that  his  friend  Elliot  was  go- 
ing to  marry.  That  girl  seemed  very  kind  to  Edward; 
his  mother  said  she  was  a  good  little  body,  and  so  on. 

His  mother  was  in  her  dressing-room.  He  did  not  trust 
himself  much  here.  He  said  he  had  come  to  wish  her 
"  good  morning."     He  kissed  her  and  left  her. 


Austin  Elliot 

He  asked  the  servants  where  was  his  brother  Edward. 
His  Lordship  had  gone  to  Church.  It  was  as  well.  He  left 
his  father's  house  —  a  house  of  order,  domestic  love,  of 
old  renown  and  of  chivalrous  honour  —  to  pursue  his  ad- 
venture with  a  worthless  bully.  When  he  thought  of 
what  that  house  might  be  by  this  time  to-morrow,  he  grew 
sick,  but  he  never  flinched. 

Was  it  ridiculous  and  out  of  place,  that  even  now  he 
should  go  round  to  the  stables,  to  have  a  look  at  the 
horses,  and  to  speak  a  word  with  the  men  ?  It  was  not 
very  absurd  in  him.  In  his  father's  house  the  servants 
took  rank  after  the  children.  The  servants  were  all  from 
the  estates.  Forgiveness  was  extended  till  seventy  times 
seven,  and  discharges  for  misconduct  were  very  rare : 
generally  attended  with  utter  despair  on  the  part  of  the 
culprit,  and  with  tears,  and  a  temporary  seclusion  on  the 
part  of  the  Duchess.  No  ;  on  the  whole  there  was  noth- 
ing ridiculous  in  his  visiting  the  stables. 

He  went  into  every  stall,  and  he  spoke  to  every  man  and 
boy  there.  He  was  the  favourite  of  the  family.  He  never 
rebuked  but  gently,  and  he  always  stood  in  the  breach  be- 
tween the  culprit  and  his  father's  anger,  to  the  very  last. 
People  who  know  about  these  things  say,  that  in  some 
large  old-fashioned  establishments  of  this  kind,  there  is  a 
certain  devoted  affection  which  arises  between  master  and 
servant,  quite  apart  from  interest.  One  would  fancy  that 
such  a  thing  was  quite  possible.  One  has  known  of  con- 
vict servants  risking  their  lives  for  a  good  master ;  is  such 
a  thing  impossible  among  footmen  and  grooms  ?  Or  is 
Jenkins,  selfish,  cowardly,  and  effeminate,  to  go  down  to 
posterity  as  the  type,  instead  of  the  exception  —  merely 
because  his  master  dresses  him  like  a  Tom-fool  ? 

We  know  not.  We  only  know  that  these  servants  were 
glad  to  see  Lord  Charles,  and  that  he  was,  in  his  way, 
wishing  them  "  Good-bye ;  "  for  at  this  time  he  believed 
that  he  would  never  see  them  again.  He  ordered  the  man 
who  was  supposed  to  have  the  care  of  his  person,  to  bring 

211 


Austin  Elliot 

his  cab  to  Mr.  Elliot's  lodgings  at  four,  and  then  he  went 
back  to  Captain  Hertford's. 

The  captain  had  come  back  late  last  night,  but  was  gone 
out  early  that  morning.  There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to 
go  on  to  Austin's,  and  keep  him  in  sight  all  day.  But 
Austin  was  gone  out  too :  his  servant  did  not  know  where. 

So  Lord  Charles  got  breakfast  at  his  club,  and  waited 
impatiently.  These  two  men  might  meet.  Austin  might 
have  gone  in  search  of  Captain  Hertford.  Men  came  and 
talked  to  him.  There  was  very  little  doubt  that  the  Corn- 
bill  would  pass  that  night ;  there  would  be  a  long  frac- 
tious debate,  an  iteration  of  every  argument  on  both  sides, 
but  it  would  be  read.  Not  that  Lord  Charles  cared  much 
about  it  now. 

And  where  was  Austin  ?  He  had  come  home,  and  go- 
ing to  bed,  had  asked  for  Robin  his  dog.  Miss  Hilton's 
servant,  old  James,  had  called  and  fetched  Robin  away 
that  evening.  Miss  Hilton's  footman  had  reported,  in  the 
course  of  conversation,  that  one  of  Miss  Hilton's  maids 
had  lit  a  bit  of  fire  in  old  Miss  Hilton's  room,  with  the 
register  down,  and  finding  the  room  full  of  smoke,  had  run 
through  the  streets  bareheaded,  raising  the  town,  till  she 
fell  down  in  a  dead  faint  at  the  engine-house  door. 

Austin  knew  that  the  next  day  was  the  day  of  Eleanor's 
monthly  pilgrimage ;  if  any  one  had  told  him  that  he 
meant  to  watch  her,  he  would  probably  have  struck  him. 
And  yet  in  his  feverish  state  of  mind,  he  went  down  early 
next  morning,  and  looked  at  Mr.  James's  dogs. 

He  was  in  that  worthy's  front  garden,  listening  to  that 
worthy's  platitudes  with  a  deaf  ear,  when  he  saw  his  own 
dog,  Robin,  come  bounding  out  of  a  by-street,  from  the 
direction  of  Millbank,  and  hunt  a  hen  who  was  taking  her 
breakfast  in  the  middle  of  the  road.  He  watched  the 
street  out  of  which  he  had  come. 

He  saw  Eleanor  come  out  of  that  street.  She  was  lean- 
ing on  Captain  Hertford's  arm,  and  was  talking  eagerly  to 
him — she  who  was  his,  by  every  tie  and  vow  that  could 


Austin  Elliot 

be  made,  was  leaning  on  the  arm  of  the  man  who  was 
seeking  his  life —  she  who  could  keep  a  secret  from  him, 
could  be  in  confidence  with  that  bully,  that  assassin ! 
There  was  no  doubt  about  his  purpose  now.  Either  that 
man  or  he  should  die.  The  time  came  soon  when  he  got 
his  lesson ;  the  time  came  when  he  would  sooner  have 
blown  out  his  own  brains,  than  fire  a  pistol  at  the  most 
worthless  man  alive,  but  the  time  had  not  come  yet. 

It  was  no  use  following  them  then ;  Hertford  would  be 
down  for  the  debate  that  night.  He  went  home,  and  soon 
after  Lord  Charles  came  to  him. 

Austin  poured  out  his  furious  indignation  to  him,  not 
only,  alas,  against  Captain  Hertford,  but  against  Eleanor. 
Lord  Charles  only  continued  to  assure  him  quietly,  that 
the  time  would  come  when  he  would  be  sorry  for  what 
he  was  saying ;  that  he,  Lord  Charles,  would  go  bail  for 
Eleanor  with  his  life. 

The  weary  day  wore  on.  The  day  which  both  of  them 
had  looked  forward  to  with  such  hope.  There  was  no 
doubt  that  the  Bill  would  be  read  a  third  time  that  night, 

and  the  Lords  dare  not Alas,  how  little  either  of  them 

cared  for  the  Bill  now,  or  for  the  Lords  either  ! 

At  half-past  five  they  both,  by  tacit  consent,  went  down 
to  the  House;  Lord  Charles  to  his  place,  while  Austin 
fought  his  way  into  the  gallery.  At  this  time  affairs  might 
have  arranged  themselves  anyhow  ;  the  way  they  did  ar- 
range themselves  was  this. 

Captain  Hertford  and  Lord  Charles  were  both  eagerly 
anxious  to  meet,  as  we  know.  But  at  about  ten  o'clock 
Lord  Charles  remembered  that  his  father  would  be  soon 
leaving  the  House  of  Lords,  as  he  knew  that  he  was  going 
to  Lady  Something's  party,  or  ball,  or  drum,  or  what  not, 
for  he  had  heard  him  say  so.  He  had  a  desire  to  see  his 
father  again.  He  saw  Austin,  as  he  thought  hopelessly 
wedged  in  the  gallery ;  he  saw  Captain  Hertford  sitting 
sulkily  opposite ;  he  thought  that  he  might  safely  slip  out 
for  five  minutes  and  see  his  father  once  more. 
213 


Austin  Elliot 

Austin  saw  him  rise  and  go  ;  he  saw  Captain  Hertford 
rise  and  follow  him.  Then  he  turned  on  the  crowd  behind 
him  in  the  gallery,  and  fought  his  way  out  like  a  mad- 
man. 

When  he  felt  the  cold  night  wind  on  his  face  he  found 
himself  among  a  crowd,  a  crowd  of  all  sorts  of  people, 
fidgeting  and  talking  about  what  was  going  on  inside  the 
House.*  He  felt  puzzled  and  confused  among  so  many 
fresh  faces,  until  he  saw  a  policeman  whose  face  he 
knew,  and  asked  him  whether  he  had  seen  Captain  Hert- 
ford. 

The  policeman,  touching  his  hat,  said,  yes ;  that  Captain 
Hertford  had  followed  Lord  Charles  Barty  in  the  direction 
of  the  Peers'  entrance.  Austin  hurried  that  way  as  fast  as 
he  could  go. 

At  that  time  the  passage  to  the  Peers'  entrance  was  a 
squalid  sort  of  alley.  With  high  slab  palings  on  the  right, 
and  on  the  left  a  strange  wooden  building,  beyond  all 
again  an  archway.  On  the  left,  also,  was  a  high  wooden 
screen,  perforated  with  square  holes,  which  represented, 
unless  we  forget.  Dr.  Reid's  ventilating  apparatus.  ("  I 
tell  you,"  said  Lord  Brougham  once,  "  that  I  don't  want 
explanation,  I  want  air.")  Altogether  it  was  an  odd  sort 
of  transition  place,  rendered  more  untidy  by  a  low  railing 
which  ran  along  one  side  of  it,  nearly  half-way  across. 

Up  this  passage  Austin  hurried.  He  was  too  late.  He 
heard  voices  in  dispute,  raised  above  the  common  tone  of 
conversation.  When  he  came  up  there  were  three  people 
in  a  group.  One  a  peer ;  Lord  Charles  Barty,  who  leant 
with  his  back  against  the  railings  ;  and  Captain  Hertford 
who  was  opposite  him.     These  were  the  three, 

"  You  have  heard  what  passed,  my  lord,"  were  the  first 
words  that  Austin  heard.  "  I  have  told  Lord  Charles 
Barty  that  he  is  a  liar." 

"  And  you  also  heard,  Lord  Sayton,"  said  Lord  Charles, 

*  The  author  left  that  crowd  at  a  quarter  past  eight  or  so. 
214 


Austin  Elliot 

"  that  I,  walking  up  here  with  you,  and  seeing  Captain 
Hertford  following  me,  turned  on  him,  and  without  the 
least  provocation,  told  him  that  he  was  a  bully  and  a 
scoundrel,  and  that  I  also  repeat  my  assertion  now.  I  sup- 
pose there  is  nothing  more  to  be  said,  unless  we  intend  to 
scold  and  fight  like  two  costermongers." 

*'  Well,  I  should  say  not,"  said  Lord  Sayton.  "  The  af- 
fair seems  plain,  though  I  am  devilish  sorry  for  it !  " 

*'  This  quarrel  is  mine  !  "  said  Austin,  breathless. 

"  It  should  have  been,  by  all  accounts,"  said  Lord  Say- 
ton  ;  "  but  you  are  rather  late,  ain't  you  ?  Do  you  want 
me  ?  "  he  added,  turning  round  towards  the  two  others. 

"  No,  thank  you,  Sayton,"  said  Lord  Charles. 

"  I  shall  be  glad  of  your  assistance.  Lord  Sayton,"  said 
Captain  Hertford. 

"  I  spoke  to  Lord  Charles  Barty,  not  to  you,"  said  Lord 
Sayton.  "  You  can  notice  that  if  you  like  :  you  will  not 
find  me  packed  in  the  Strangers'  Gallery  of  the  Commons, 
when  you  want  me  !  " 

"  You  shall  answer  for  that  speech.  Lord  Sayton,"  said 
Austin. 

"  Very  well,"  drawled  that  most  stupid  of  men. 

They  separated,  and  Lord  Charles  and  Austin  went 
away  together.  After  a  few  steps  Lord  Charles  ran  back 
and  overtook  Captain  Hertford. 

"  Shall  you  send  your  man  to-night  ?  " 

"  It  will  be  better." 

"  Send  him  to  Elliot's  lodgings ;  I  shall  not  go  home. 
We  shall  never  speak  again.  If  anything  happens  to 
either  of  us  don't  bear  any  malice.  I  shall  see  you  in  the 
morning." 


215 


Austin  Elliot 


Chapter  XXIX 

Lord  Charles  went  home  at  once  to  Austin's  lodg. 
ings,  which  were  very  close  to  Captain  Hertford's.  Austin 
persuaded  Lord  Charles  to  go  to  bed,  which  he  did  with- 
out much  persuasion.  Austin  waited  up  for  Captain  Hert- 
ford's friend. 

He  was  not  long  in  coming.  He  was  a  Captain  Jackson, 
whom  Austin  had  seen  before  —  the  man  whom  he  had 
seen  before  walking  with  Captain  Hertford  and  Lord 
Charles  Barty  just  before  he  had  started  for  Ronaldsay. 
He  had  been  to  India  since,  and  had  come  home  wounded 
from  one  of  the  Sikh  battles,  almost  with  the  news  of  Fero- 
seshah ;  a  man  of  the  Indian  army,  a  good-natured  gos- 
siping man,  a  great  Shickaree  by  his  own  account.  Aus- 
tin had  listened  to  his  tiger-stories  often,  and  wished  it 
had  been  some  one  else  who  had  come  with  the  message 
now  —  some  one  possibly,  with  whom  he  could  have 
picked  a  quarrel. 

Captain  Jackson  began :  "  Is  there  no  way  out  of  this 
miserable  business  ?  " 

"  Do  you  see  any,  Jackson  ?  "  said  Austin,  eagerly. 

*'  Well,  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  we  are  determined  (ut- 
terly against  my  wishes,  mind  you)  to  go  through  with  it. 
And  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  we  (utterly  against  my  wish), 
having  been  insulted  in  the  house,  when  we  passed  it 
over,  and  being  again  grossly  insulted  to-night,  are  deter- 
mined to  have  a  public  apology." 

"  That  is  impossible,"  said  Austin.  "  But  I'll  tell  you 
what  I  will  do." 

"  I  don't  think  you  have  anything  much  to  do  with 
it,  have  you,  Elliot  ?    You  should  say  what  ive  will  do." 

"  What  /  will  do  is  this,"  said  Austin.     "  Barty  is  in 
bed  and  asleep.     I  will  myself  meet   Hertford,  and  ex- 
change shots  to-morrow  morning,  before  Barty  awakes." 
216 


Austin  Elliot 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say,"  said  Captain  Jackson,  "  that  we, 
knowing  your  nobleness  of  character,  have  anticipated  that 
course  of  action,  and  that  we  won't  have  it  at  all.  Lord 
Charles  Barty  must  apologize,  come  out,  or " 

•*  God  help  us,"  said  Austin. 

*•  Amen  !  "  said  Captain  Jackson  sincerely.  "  You  have 
never  been  at  this  sort  of  thing  before.  You  will  have  to 
leave  a  good  deal  to  me.  If  you  will  trust  me,  before  God, 
to  whom  we  both  must  give  an  account  of  to-morrow 
morning's  work,  I  will  see  everything  fair.  You  have  no 
pistols." 

"  No ! " 

"  Will  you  let  me  bring  mine  ?  They  are  smooth- 
bored  and  devilish  bad.  We  may  get  out  of  it  in  that 
way.     Got  passports  ?  " 

"  No,  never  thought  of  it." 

"  Then  you  must  come  with  us.  Hertford  warned  me 
that  something  was  in  the  wind  yesterday,  and  made  me 
get  a  family  passport,  in  which  our  worthy  captain  figures 
as  Mr.  Jones  p^re,  and  Lord  Charles,  you  and  I,  as  his 
promising  sons.  If  one  of  us  is  taken  ill  we  can  account 
for  it.  Hertford,  of  course,  having  the  character  of  a  man 
rather  too  ready  for  this  sort  of  thing,  wishes  to  stand 
with  the  world  as  the  soul  of  chivalry.  So  he  made  me 
get  the  passport.     God  grant  it  may  not  be  needed." 

"  God  grant  it,"  said  Austin. 

"  Once  more,  Amen.    With  regard  to  time  and  place  ?  " 

'*  What  do  you  propose  ?  " 

*•  I  am  sorry  to  say,"  said  Captain  Jackson,  "  that  we, 
having  provided  the  aforesaid  family  passport,  are  more  in 
a  position  to  insist  than  to  propose.  We,  unless  you  can 
bring  strong  reasons  against  it,  propose  the  firs  at  Hamp- 
stead,  at  half-past  seven  to-morrow  morning.  It  must  be 
so,  my  dear  Elliot,  or  we  shall  be  stopped.  The  quarrel 
has  been  heard  of,  and  the  affair  will  be  stopped  else.  If 
you  oppose  an  early  meeting,  your  man's  reputation  won't 
be  worth  an  old  shoe." 

217 


Austin  Elliot 

It  was  undeniable.  Austin  agreed,  and  the  captain  de- 
parted. 

Austin  went  round  to  the  stables,  where  his  own  horses 
were  kept,  and  to  his  terror  found  that  all  was  dark  and 
shut  up.  He  did  not  know  exactly  where  his  own  ser\^ant 
slept,  or  he  would  have  tried  to  arouse  him.  What  be- 
tween his  terror  for  his  friend's  reputation  and  his  terror 
at  his  friend's  danger,  he  was  nearly  mad.  He  was  at 
this  moment  very  nearly  going  to  the  police-office  and 
putting  the  matter  before  them,  but  he  dared  not.  If  he 
had  done  such  a  thing  as  that,  his  friend  would  for  ever 
after  have  been  socially  and  politically  dead.  The  diffi- 
culty now  was  to  rouse  a  sleeping  groom  without  awaken- 
ing the  others.  Lord  Charles's  groom  must  be  sleeping 
with  one  of  his.  It  was  a  ridiculous  difficulty,  but  it  made 
him  stamp,  and  curse  the  day  he  was  born. 

Luck  assisted  him.  A  man  came  into  the  mews,  and 
as  he  walked  aside  to  let  him  pass  he  saw  it  was  Charles 
Barty's  servant.  He  ordered  him  to  bring  the  cab  to  his 
lodgings  at  five. 

*'  Are  you  going  out,  sir  ?  "  asked  the  man. 

"  Yes,"  said  Austin.  "  You  must  be  secret  and  quiet. 
I  will  reward  you  well." 

"  I  am  sorry  for  it,  sir.  You  was  always  a  kind  gentle- 
man.    I  will  be  there,  sir,  punctual." 

Then  Austin  went  back,  and  going  up  to  his  room, 
where  Lord  Charles  lay  asleep  in  his  bed,  he  sat  in  a  chair 
all  night,  listening  to  the  long-drawn  breath  of  the  sleeper. 

He  sat  and  thought  all  night.  Ah  Lord !  it  had  all 
come  to  this.  His  own  reputation  tarnished,  and  the 
friend  of  his  heart  going  out  next  morning  in  a  quarrel 
which  by  rights  was  his.  He  knew  that,  however  this 
business  turned  out,  his  own  reputation  was  gone.  He 
had  had  two  hints  to  that  effect  these  last  few  days,  and 
both  of  those  had  come  from  men  eminently  friendly  to 
himself. 

His  reputation  tarnished  !    Ah,  it  was  maddening.  How 

2l8 


Austin  Elliot 

lucky  that  his  father  was  dead,  and  that  his  death  did  not 
He  at  his  son's  door,  for  that  would  have  killed  him  out- 
right. This  man  Hertford  had  been  taking  his  name  in 
vain.  Austin  had  heard  of  it.  His  own  friends  at  the 
United  University  Club  had  talked  about  it.  Austin  him- 
self had  gone  down  to  the  Club  and  talked  threateningly 
of  Hertford.  The  little  world  he  lived  in  was  expectant ; 
how  would  that  expectation  be  satisfied  ?  By  finding  that 
he,  Austin  Elliot,  had  allowed  the  friend  of  his  bosom  to 
fight  his  battle  for  him ;  by  allowing  Lord  Charles  to  go 
out  with  one  of  the  deadliest  shots  in  England. 

It  was  unendurable,  but  there  was  no  remedy  in  his 
code  of  morality.  Therefore,  although  it  was  unendurable, 
it  was  endured,  like  most  other  unendurable  things  in  this 
world. 

But  his  own  disgrace  was  not  one  quarter  of  the  mis- 
chief. Suppose  anything  were  to  happen  to  Lord  Charles  ? 
Suppose  he  were  to  be  wounded  .'*  Suppose  he  were  to  be 
lamed  for  life,  for  that  was  possible  —  how  would  Austin 
feel  then  ?  The  cloud  he  himself  was  under  now  might 
be  cleared  away.  He  might  force  Captain  Hertford  to  go 
out  with  him  —  nay  !  he  was  already  determined  to  do  so. 
It  would  be  necessary.  But  if  his  friend  was  maimed  in 
this  encounter,  he  felt  as  though  he  could  never  hold  up 
his  head  again.  He  determined  that  if  any  one  proposed 
more  than  one  shot,  that  the  shots  should  pass  through  his 
own  body. 

So  the  short  night  wore  on ,  and  he  sat  in  his  chair  with- 
out sleeping,  trying,  from  time  to  time,  to  make  out  the 
outline  of  his  friend's  face  in  the  dark.  As  the  East  began 
to  grow  bright,  and  the  sparrows  began  to  twitter  outside 
the  window,  he  dozed ;  but  he  must  have  wakened  again 
within  half-an-hour.  The  room  was  quite  light  now,  and 
he  could  see  his  friend. 

He  was  sleeping  as  peacefully  as  a  child.  The  beauti- 
ful face  was  turned,  in  its  expressionless  repose,  towards 
Austin.  One  bare  arm  was  thrown  half  out  of  bed,  with 
219 


Austin  Elliot 

the  palm  of  the  hand  uppermost,  and  the  fingers  relaxed ; 
the  other  was  laid  under  the  sleeping  man's  head,  among 
his  close  brown  curls.  It  seemed  a  happy  sleep,  for  he 
smiled,  and  babbled  inarticulately  in  his  dreams  —  a  hap- 
py schoolboy  sleep  !  Austin  had  awakened  him  from  such 
a  sleep  at  Eton,  in  old  times,  more  than  once,  to  come 
bathing,  or  boating,  or  birdnesting.  He  remembered 
how  that  face  had  changed,  from  the  half-unconscious  ex- 
pression fixed  on  it  by  some  happy  dream,  into  conscious- 
ness, into  loving  recognition  of  the  friend  who  had  awa- 
kened him.  He  remembered  all  that,  and  knew  that  he 
had  to  awaken  him  once  more  —  to  what  ?  What  ex- 
pression would  the  face  take  now  ?  What  kind  of  curse 
would  shine  out  of  those  eyes,  as  soon  as  the  lids  of  them 
were  raised,  and  the  soul  behind  them  awoke  to  the  ap- 
preciation of  the  lamentable  truth  ? 

So  there  grew  on  poor  Austin  a  horror  and  a  dread  of 
the  sleeper's  awaking  ;  and  as  he  slept  on,  a  new  dread  — 
the  dread  of  having  to  awaken  him  himself.  But  it  must 
be  done,  and  be  done  soon.  Now  there  came  into  his 
head  a  something  long  forgotten,  as  long-forgotten  trifles 
will  come  into  men's  minds,  at  times  of  awful  anxiety  like 
this.  It  would  have  made  him  smile  at  another  time,  but 
he  remembered  it  now.  He  had  read  in  some  blackguard 
book  about  prizefighting,  that  the  men  who  trained  the 
prizefighters  never  awoke  them  in  the  morning,  but  that 
they  put  the  window  open,  and  that,  after  a  short  time,  as 
soon  as  the  fresh  morning  air  reached  the  poor  fellows' 
faces,  they  quietly  awoke.  He  remembered  this  now,  and 
opened  the  window.  In  a  short  time,  Charles  Barty 
turned  in  his  bed  and  awoke.  His  eyes  met  Austin's,  and 
he  smiled  affectionately ;  but  as  consciousness  came  to 
him,  that  smile  faded  into  an  expression  of  anxiety,  and 
almost  of  horror.  If  he  had  sat  up  in  bed,  and  heaped 
curses  on  Austin's  head,  Austin  could  have  borne  it  better 
than  that  look. 

But  it  was  late  —  they  must  hurry :  that  was  something. 


Austin  Elliot 

They  would  have  breakfast  when  they  came  back.  The 
other  people  were  to  bring  a  doctor  with  them,  so  there 
was  nothing  to  do  but  to  drive  fast.  They  spoke  very 
little,  and  on  indifferent  subjects  ;  Austin  drove.  Once 
Lord  Charles  turned  round,  and  talked  to  the  groom  stand- 
ing at  the  back  of  the  cab,  and  gave  orders  about  his  hack 
being  brought  somewhere  that  afternoon.  The  groom 
said  that  his  father's  cob  was  lame,  and  perhaps  his  Grace 
might  like  to  borrow  his  Lordship's  hack.  Whereupon 
Lord  Charles  confounded  his  father's  cob  (to  Austin),  and 
wished  to  God  that  his  father  would  find  himself  in  horses, 
and  not  be  everlastingly  borrowing  his. 

They  were  late.  When  they  got  on  to  the  heath,  they 
saw  a  dog-cart  standing,  with  a  groom  at  the  horse's  head, 
and  further  on,  they  saw  three  men  waiting  for  them  — 
Captain  Hertford,  Captain  Jackson,  and  the  doctor. 

They  hurried  forward.  Captain  Jackson  and  Austin 
went  apart,  and  matters  were  soon  arranged.  "  We  must 
be  quick,  Elliot,"  said  Captain  Jackson. 

They  were  very  quick.  The  men  were  placed  twelve 
paces  apart,  back  to  back,  and  their  seconds  gave  them 
their  pistols.  Captain  Jackson  was  to  give  the  word. 
Austin  and  he  retired,  and  Captain  Jackson  said,  "  Gentle-* 
men,  are  you  ready  ?    Fire  !  " 

They  both  faced  one  another  at  the  same  instant. 
Charles  Barty  raised  his  hand  high  over  his  head,  and 
fired  in  the  air.  Captain  Hertford  took  deliberate  aim,  and 
fired  two  seconds  afterwards.  The  instant  he  had  done  so. 
Lord  Charles  leapt  a  foot  off  the  ground,  and  then  bring- 
ing his  heels  sharply  down  upon  the  turf,  toppled  over 
headlong  on  his  left  shoulder,  and  lay  perfectly  still. 

Austin  was  beside  him  in  an  instant,  but  he  was  quite 
dead.  Austin  turned  the  heavy  head  over,  and  saw  the 
last  sign  of  life  which  appeared  in  that  beautiful  face. 
Two  nerves  in  the  hollows  beneath  his  eyes  quivered  and 
throbbed  for  half  a  second,  and  then  stopped  for  ever. 

If  I  were  to  pile  Pelion  upon  Ossa  with  grand  words,  I 

221 


Austin  Elliot 

could  give  you  no  idea  of  the  catastrophe  more  terrible 
than  this.  Lord  Charles  Barty  was  shot  through  the 
heart,  and  was  lying,  stone-dead,  at  the  feet  of  Austin 
Elliot. 


Chapter  XXX 

Austin  had  never  seen  death  before.  This  was  his 
first  introduction  to  it.  He  was  holding  the  face  of  the 
dead  man  between  his  two  hands,  and  looking  down  with 
a  strange  incredulous  terror  into  the  sightless  eyes. 

And  the  dead  man  was  his  friend,  a  man  he  loved  as 
David  loved  Jonathan.  He  had  never  done  anything  or 
thought  anything,  for  he  knew  not  how  long,  without  this 
man  coming  into  his  mind.  "  What  will  he  think  about 
it  ?  "  "  What  will  he  say  about  it  .^  "  had  always  been  his 
first  thought  after  he  had  done  anything.     Now,  now  — 

The  two  others  were  with  him  in  a  moment.  Captain 
Hertford  said,  "  This  has  all  been  fair.  I  am  off  for 
France."  Jackson  broke  out  into  tears.  "  By  God,"  he 
said,  "  this  is  a  most  horrible  business !  I  wish  he  had 
struck  me  dead  before  I  came  out  on  this  accursed 
errand  ! "  But  Austin  said  nothing.  He  was  kneeling  on 
one  knee,  with  the  dead  man's  face  between  his  hands, 
and  a  claw  like  that  of  an  eagle,  griping  at  his  heart. 

"  We  must  get  away,"  said  Captain  Hertford.  "  We 
had  best  be  quick.  Elliot,  you  will  have  to  come  with 
us." 

"  I  shall  stay  where  I  am." 

"  You  are  mazed,"  said  Captain  Hertford,  impatiently. 
"  We  shall  be  in  trouble  for  this.  Time  is  precious.  You 
must  cross  with  my  passport." 

"  I  tell  you  I  shall  stay  where  I  am,"  said  Austin,  look- 
ing up  at  Hertford  with  that  painful  look  of  mingled  terror 
and  anger  which  Captain  Hertford  had  seen  before,  and 
which  he  now  remembered. 

222 


Austin  Elliot 

"  Then  I  have  done  my  duty  and  must  go,"  said  Cap- 
tain Hertford.     "  Jackson,  we  must  make  haste." 

They  left  him  kneeling  at  the  dead  man's  head.  In  a 
few  moments  Jackson  ran  back,  while  Captain  Hertford 
waited  for  him. 

"  Elliot,  don't  be  a  madman.  Come  away.  There  will 
be  the  devil  to  pay  for  this,  God  forgive  us !  You  must 
come  with  us.    You  shall !  " 

"  I  shall  stay  here." 

"  You  are  mad !  Think  better  of  it  and  come  with  us. 
Your  mind  is  gone  ! " 

"  I  know  it  is.     Good-bye." 

So  Captain  Jackson  went  reluctantly  away,  and  left 
Austin  with  the  dead  man. 

Lord  Charles's  groom  came  next.  He  touched  Austin 
on  the  shoulder.  "  Mr.  Elliot,"  he  said,  "  is  my  lord 
wounded  ?  " 

Austin  looked  up  in  his  face  and  said,  "  Your  lord  is 
dead  !  "  He  saw  the  man  turn  pale  and  sick.  Then  he 
saw  him  kneel  down  beside  what  had  been  Lord  Charles, 
and  untie  the  dead  man's  neckcloth.  Then  he  opened  his 
shirt  and  felt  his  heart.  And  lastly,  by  some  strange  in- 
stinct, he  closed  the  dull  staring  eyes,  which  were  never  to 
open  again.     Then  the  two  stood  silent  for  a  time. 

"  What  is  to  be  done  now,  sir  ?  "  said  the  groom  at  last. 

"  What  is  to  be  done  ?  "  said  Austin.  "  Done  !  says 
he  ?  Why,  bring  him  to  life  again,  and  let  me  lie  there 
dead  and  cold  in  his  place.  We  have  been  hardly  used, 
Tom.  There  is  no  mercy  in  Heaven,  Tom ;  or,  if  there 
is,  it  is  all  kept  for  those  who  whine  and  cringe,  and  I  have 
never  done  that,  nor  has  this  dead  man.  What  have  he 
and  I  done  that  this  has  happened  ?  Answer  me  that. 
What  have  he  and  I  done  that  things  should  come  to 
this?" 

Tom  was  only  a  poor  groom  —  a  man  not  worth  your 
notice  in  any  way ;  but  even  he  had  a  dull  feeling  that 
Mr.  Elliot,  dear  gentleman  !  was  beside  himself,  and  was 
223 


Austin  Elliot 

blaspheming  in  his  grief.  If  you  had  given  Tom  a  week 
to  answer,  he  would  have  answered,  "  You  have  both  of 
you  done  many  things  to  deserve  this ;  and  the  mere  fact 
of  your  being  here  this  morning  proves  it."  But  Tom  did 
not  get  a  week  to  think  of  his  answer.  He  was  thinking 
of  how  his  dear  dead  lord's  body  was  to  be  decently 
moved,  before  people  came  about  and  gathered  into  a 
crowd. 

The  problem  was  solved  for  him.  Two  policemen  came 
up,  and  the  elder  of  them  said,  "  Is  this  gentleman  dead, 
sir  ?  " 

"  He  is  quite  dead,"  said  Austin,  quietly. 

"  A  duel,  sir  ?  "  said  the  policeman. 

•'  Yes,  a  duel,"  said  Austin.  "  This  dead  man  is  or  was 
Lord  Charles  Barty,  the  Duke  of  Cheshire's  son ;  I  am 
Mr.  Austin  Elliot,  of  the  United  University  Club.  I  was 
his  second,  and  I  give  myself  into  custody.  Now,  do  be 
quick,  or  the  people  will  be  about." 

He  had  not  made  many  turns  up  and  down  before 
an  inspector  appeared,  and  Austin  told  him  everything. 
"  You  will  not  take  that  groom  into  custody,  will  you,  in- 
spector ?  "  said  Austin. 

"  I  ought  to,  sir,"  said  the  inspector. 

"  But  don't  do  it,"  said  Austin.  "  If  it  lay  in  the  sphere 
of  your  duty  to  burn  down  Somerset  House,  you  would 
not  like  to  be  taken  into  custody  and  leave  the  business  to 
some  one  else.  Now,  see  what  that  groom  has  to  do.  He 
was  bred  on  the  estate,  and  will  do  it  quietly.  He  has  got 
to  go  to  Cheshire  House  and  burn  it  down  over  their 
heads.  He  will  go  into  the  servants'-hall  and  ask  to  see 
the  old  nurse  who  nursed  them  all.  And  he  will  tell  her ; 
and  she  will  tell  the  Duke ;  and  the  Duke  will  tell  the 
Duchess,  and  they  will  curse  my  name,  and  the  day  I  was 
born,  and  shut  up  the  house  close  and  dark.  Lamenta- 
tion, and  mourning,  and  woe  !  I  beg  pardon.  My  head 
is  going  over  this.  If  you  knew  all  the  circumstances,  you 
could  not  wonder  at  it." 

224 


Austin  Elliot 

"  God  help  you,  sir !  " 

"  Amen.  But  you  will  let  this  poor  groom  go  ?  You 
were  less  than  a  man  if  you  did  not." 

That  was  easily  arranged.  And  then  came  the  terrible 
business  of  removing  the  corpse  :  and  I  will  go  no  further, 
only  hoping  that  I  have  not  gone  too  far  already.  But  if 
I  thought  that  I  could  do  more  than  I  have  done,  to  give 
honest  men  the  contempt  and  the  loathing,  that  I  feel  my- 
self for  the  system  of  duelling  —  for  the  principle  of  mak- 
ing the  devil  arbiter  of  differences  instead  of  God,  I  would 
go  further.  I  would  go  all  the  length  to  which  Jules 
Janin,  or  the  younger  Dumas,  have  gone  in  a  very  differ- 
ent cause. 

Austin  walked  away  with  the  inspector  of  police  like  a 
man  in  a  dream.  It  seemed  to  him  as  if  all  the  universe  had 
sunk  round  him,  and  left  him  standing  on  a  pinnacle  far 
above  the  reach  of  human  sympathy.  It  was  so  horrible. 
It  was  not  so  much  that  he  was  sorry  or  grieved,  or  that 
he  could  have  wept  wild  tears  for  the  fate  of  his  friend ; 
that  state  of  mind  was  not  come  yet,  and  was  not  to  come 
for  a  long  while.  At  present,  the  whole  business  was 
ghastly,  horrible,  unbelievable.  It  must  be  untrue.  Charles 
Barty,  merry,  handsome,  clever,  the  most  loveable  of  human 
beings,  so  gentle,  so  good,  such  a  thorough  gentleman  — 
Charles  Barty,  the  man  whose  life  had  hitherto  been  a  sort 
of  beautiful,  merry  joke,  yet  who  had  shown  promise  of 
great  things,  should  occasion  arise,  this  man  could  not  be 
dead !  It  was  impossible  that  Death  could  have  dared  ! 
But  Austin  had  seen  his  body  put  into  a  baker's  cart,  and 
had  seen  the  legs  fall. 

Alas  !  Austin,  he  was  dead  enough ;  and  you,  my  poor 
butterfly,  having  lived  three-and-twenty  years  in  a  fool's 
paradise,  your  religious  faith  absolutely  nothing,  your 
political  creed  only  built  up  out  of  the  formulas  used  by  your 
forefathers,  in  discussing  questions  which  have  been  ex- 
tinct many  a  long  year  agone ;  your  social  creed  being, 
that  it  was  a  good  thing  to  get  asked  to  such  and  such  a 

22^ 


Austin  Elliot 

party,  and  that  you  ought  to  get  up  pedigrees  and  know 
all  about  everybody — you,  poor  Austin,  when  you  saw 
Lord  Charles  put  into  the  baker's  cart  and  driven  slowly 
away  ;  were  at  the  edge  of  a  very  black  hell  indeed.  No 
wonder  that  you  clung  to  the  police  inspector  as  a  reality, 
at  all  events  —  as  the  link  which  connected  you  with  the 
world  which  seemed  to  have  sunk  away  under  your  feet. 

It  was  well  that  Mr.  Elliot  was  dead,  or  this  would  have 
killed  him  with  a  broken  heart.  That  he  who  had  brought 
up  his  son  on  formulas,  social  and  political  —  which  meant 
something  in  his  time,  but  which  now  meant  little  or 
nothing  —  should  be  out  of  the  way  and  not  see  that  pain- 
ful look  of  puzzled  horror  on  his  son's  face,  that  was  well. 
Poor  Austin  was  the  Louis  Sixteenth  of  duelling  —  the 
last,  the  kindest,  the  best  of  those  who  stuck  to  the  old 
rule  —  the  one  most  severely  punished. 

When  they  got  to  the  police-office,  the  magistrate  was 
trying  the  people  who  had  got  drunk  the  night  before. 
Austin  sent  several  special  messengers,  at  the  inspector's 
advice,  to  old  friends  of  his  father's,  and  sat  wearily  at  one 
side  of  the  court,  listening  to  the  other  cases. 

A  chimney-sweep,  for  nearly  murdering  his  wife.  He 
had  been  remanded  and  remanded  again,  until  the 
house-surgeon  had  pronounced  his  wife  sufficiently  re- 
covered to  go  and  give  evidence.  There  she  was,  a  drunk- 
en drab,  with  her  head  all  plastered  up  with  bandages. 
The  house-surgeon  had  thought  her  dying  at  one  time, 
and  had  sent  for  the  magistrate  to  take  her  evidence  :  then, 
under  fear  of  death,  she  had  told  the  truth,  but  now,  when 
in  the  dock,  looking  at  the  miserable,  degraded,  brutal 
hound  she  loved  so  well,  she  lied  and  lied  in  his  favour, 
till  the  magistrate  threatened  to  commit  her  for  perjury  ; 
and  at  every  fresh  lie  (God  help  us !)  her  face  seemed  to 
grow  grander  and  nobler,  till  she  looked  almost  beautiful. 
•'  She,"  thought  Austin,  "  would  die  for  that  wretched  cur, 
and  I  — " 

Two  boys,  brothers,  ages  seventeen  and  eighteen.  They 
226 


Austin  Elliot 

had  got  the  trick  of  going  to  Cremorne  and  such  places, 
and  spending  too  much  money.  They  had  put  their  silly 
heads  together  and  committed  a  clumsy  forgery  —  a  forg- 
ery than  which  nothing  more  idiotic  ever  entered  into  the 
mind  of  man.  They  had  torn  a  cheque  out  of  their  mas- 
ter's book,  filled  it  up  for  ten  pounds,  and  with  the  most 
clumsy  imitation  of  their  master's  signature,  had  gone  to- 
gether to  the  bank  and  presented  it.  They  were  given 
into  custody  at  once,  and  there  they  were  in  the  dock, 
huddling  together  like  two  frightened  sheep.  The  evi- 
dence was  conclusive,  and  the  magistrate  asked  them  what 
they  had  to  say.  Whereupon  Tom,  the  elder  brother, 
moistening  his  dry  lips  with  his  tongue,  confessed  his  guilt, 
and  said  that  Bob,  his  younger  brother,  knew  nothing 
about  it.  But  Bob  wouldn't  have  this  by  any  means ;  he 
asserted  shrilly  that  he  had  stolen  the  cheque,  forged  it, 
and  had  took  Tom  to  the  bank  with  him  when  he  pre- 
sented it,  because  they  knew  Tom  and  didn't  know  he, 
and  also  that  Tom  was  a  devil  to  lie,  and  always  had  been, 
which  ask  their  mother.  The  chivalry  of  these  two  poor 
fools  towards  one  another  was  one  more  stab  in  Austin's 
heart.  Now  that  the  horrible  catastrophe  had  come,  he 
could  see  that  by  rising  to  the  level  of  a  higher  law  he 
might  have  saved  his  friend. 

Then  they  shoved  into  the  dock  a  boy  who  scuffled,  and 
lost  one  shoe,  and  had  it  handed  to  him  by  the  policeman ; 
and  after  he  had  put  it  on,  stood  up  again.  A  boy,  gentle- 
men, of  the  sort  worth  attending  to  because  his  clay  has 
not  been  burnt  to  brick,  but  is  still  plastic.  A  boy  who 
may  yet  be  made  a  man  if  you  can  get  hold  of  him.  The 
very  boy,  gentlemen,  of  all  persuasions,  from  Roman 
Catholic  to  Unitarian,  that  you  are,  thank  you,  getting 
hold  of  —  all  honour  to  you.  A  boy  with  a  shock  head, 
his  hair  down  over  his  forehead,  who  when  spoken  to  puts 
his  fists  into  his  eyes  and  lifts  his  elbows  up  above  his 
ears,  expecting  a  blow.  You  know  him,  messieurs  the 
Scripture-readers,  brothers  of  the  holy  order  of  St.  Francis, 
227 


Austin  Elliot 

district  visitors  of  the  Swedenborgian,  or  whatever  you 
call  yourselves,  you  know  the  young  dog ;  and,  in  spite  of 
all  your  attempted  proselytizing  and  your  squabbling,  you 
all  mean  him  well !     Have  we  not  seen  your  good  works  ? 

This  shock-headed  boy  being  put  into  the  dock,  and  ac- 
cused of  being  concerned,  with  his  elder  brother,  still  at 
large,  in  the  tripping  up  of  an  old  gentleman  and  the  steal- 
ing his  watch,  "  didn't  know  nothink  about  it !  "  and  in 
spite  of  the  truculent  cross-examination  of  Mr.  Barney 
Moses  (from  the  office  of  Ikey  Moses  and  Son),  and  the 
hints  of  the  magistrate,  that  in  consequence  of  his  youth 
he  would  be  held  innocent,  he  still  aggravatingly  and  per- 
versely persisted  in  "  knowing  nothink  about  it,"  without 
orders  from  his  elder  brother. 

Then  was  this  thieves'  honour  higher  than  gentlemen's 
honour?  Was  it  the  same  article,  or  a  spurious  one.'* 
There  was  no  time  for  Austin  to  think  out  the  question,  or 
he  would  probably  as  a  reasonable  man  have  settled  it 
this  way :  —  That  up  to  this  year  1 846,  the  best  and  high- 
est men  in  the  land  had  never  had  moral  courage  to  de- 
cline the  test  of  the  duel ;  that  he  was  one  of  the  first 
victims  of  a  new  state  of  things ;  that,  acting  on  the  old 
rules  of  honour,  he  had  done  nothing  with  regard  to  this 
miserable  business,  but  what  was  inexorably  right  and 
necessary.  That,  through  mere  ill-luck,  his  own  reputa- 
tion was  tarnished,  and  his  friend  killed.  That  was  the 
truth  ;  but  Austin  could  not  see  it  just  now.  He  placed 
the  honour  of  these  thieves  and  prostitutes  above  his  own, 
and  wished  for  death. 

The  charge  against  him  was  made.  The  magistrate  re- 
quired two  sureties  of  500/.  each.  They  were  instantly 
forthcoming,  from  two,  or  if  need  were,  from  a  dozen  of 
his  father's  friends  ;  and  Austin,  after  thanking  them, 
went  rapidly  away  and  took  a  passport  for  France,  and 
then  went  to  his  lawyer. 

He  and  his  lawyer  sat  late.  He  gave  him  orders  to 
prepare  deeds,  conveying  all  his  property  to  Eleanor  in 
228 


Austin  Elliot 

case  of  a  conviction  (which  was  inevitable),*  and  told  him 
that  he  would  appear  and  sign  them  in  good  time.  He 
then  made  a  short  will,  leaving  all  his  property  to  Eleanor, 
in  case  of  his  death  before  his  conviction.  Then  he  wrote 
to  her  a  short  note,  requesting  her  to  make  good,  out  of 
his  effects,  the  loss  of  his  father's  old  friends,  with  regard 
to  his  bail.     And  then  he  went  home. 

His  servant  was  waiting  for  him.  He  paid  the  man's 
wages,  and  gave  him  a  paper,  which  authorized  him  to  sell 
his  three  horses,  his  cab,  and  his  dog-cart,  at  Tattersall's, 
and  to  pay  the  money  into  his  banker's.  This  paper  was 
not  worth  very  much  in  a  legal  point  of  view,  but  he  knew 
his  man,  and  knew  that  he  could  trust  him.  He  told  him 
also  to  take  care  of  his  dog  Robin  ;  and  should  anything 
happen,  to  take  him  to  Miss  Hilton.  Then  he  had  his 
landlady,  Mrs.  Macpherson,  up,  and  settled  with  her,  while 
his  man  packed  his  portmanteau. 

It  was  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  before  all  this  was 
done,  and  then  he  sent  his  man  for  a  cab.  His  fool  of  a 
servant  cried,  and  prayed  him  that  he  would  let  him  go 
with  him,  but  Austin  was  pale  and  resolute,  and  went 
alone. 

A  strange  journey.  One  of  the  maddest,  silliest  jour- 
neys ever  undertaken.  First  he  went  to  Calais,  and  very 
soon  found  that  Captain  Hertford  was  not  there,  and  had 
not  been  there.  Then  he  posted  to  Boulogne,  and  spent 
three  days  there  making  inquiries.  Captain  Hertford  had 
evidently  not  been  there  either.  The  Police  Bureau  knew 
nothing  of  him  at  all.     Monsieur  must  have  been  fright- 

*  It  seems  doubtful  whether  or  no  this  document  or  documents 
would  have  been  worth  the  paper  they  were  written  on.  The  law 
about  duelling  may  be  found  in  Mr.  Samuel  Warren's  article  in 
"  Blackwood,"  on  the  duel  between  Lord  Cardigan  and  Captain 
Tuckett.  Our  legal  knowledge  is  insufficient  to  decide  whether 
or  no  the  conveyance  of  the  property  of  a  man  under  bail,  to  a 
friend,  will  hold  good.  Our  own  ignorance  on  this  point  is  not 
very  surprising.  But  it  is  surprising  that  the  question,  so  very 
important,  seems  not  to  be  decided  yet. 
229 


Austin  Elliot 

fully  deceived  by  interested  persons  ;  no  such  person  had 
been  there.  Monsieur,  weary  of  life,  feeling  hot  about  the 
head,  thought  he  would  go  bathe,  and  did  so.  The  bath- 
ers sat  on  the  shore,  and  ate  hot  gauffres,  and  read  "  Le 
Juif  Errant,"  not  yet  grown  stale,  and  "  Monte-Christo," 
which  will  never  grow  stale.  But  no  one  knew  anything 
of  Captain  Hertford,  or  any  such  man.  Had  not  Prince 
Louis  Buonaparte  shaved  off  his  moustaches,  put  two 
planks  on  his  shoulders,  and  walked  out  of  Ham,  what  did 
Monsieur  think  of  that,  as  an  instance  of  French  courage  } 
Hey  then  !  Monsieur  was  forced  to  confess  that  the  prince 
had  shown  courage  of  the  very  highest  order.  But  finding 
no  intelligence  of  Captain  Hertford,  he  crossed  again  to 
Dover. 

There  seemed  only  one  port  left  now  to  which  Captain 
Hertford  would  be  likely  to  have  gone  —  he  must  have 
taken  passage  from  Brighton  to  Dieppe.  He  might  have 
gone  to  Havre;  that  was  still  possible.  Austin  remem- 
bered that  he  had  said,  "  I  am  off  for  France,"  and  felt 
sure  that  he  would  get  on  his  track.  He  was  more  likely 
to  have  gone  to  Dieppe  than  to  Havre.  Austin  went  down 
to  Brighton,  and  crossed  in  the  steamer  Venezuela,  which 
steamer,  I  sincerely  hope,  is  gone  to  the  bottom  long  ago ; 
for  having  endured  a  gale  of  wind  in  her  through  one 
night,  about  two  years  before  the  time  I  speak  of ;  and 
having  endured  many  gales  of  wind,  in  many  ships,  in  all 
sorts  of  strange  seas  since,  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion, 
that  the  steamer  Venezuela  is  (or  I  hope  was)  the  worst, 
wettest,  and  most  abominably  dangerous  sea-boat  ever 
built. 

Mrs.  Taylor,  of  the  "  Hotel  d'Angleterre,"  dead,  I  fear, 
many  years  agone,  the  best  and  cheeriest  landlady  that  ever 
roared  out  of  an  upper  window,  —  "  Alphonse  (you  stupid 
lout,  may  God  forgive  me !)  Venez-ici  toutedesweet,  pour 
brusser  les  souliers  de  jeune  Mossoo  !  Drat  the  man,  he's 
a  iling  of  his  hair ;  cochon  !  —  entendez-vous  ?  "  Mrs.  Tay- 
lor, I  say,  knew  nothing  of  Captain  Hertford ;  but  Austin, 
230 


Austin  Elliot 

going  into  the  public  room  at  the  Hotel  Angleterre,  met 
a  man  whom  he  knew,  who  gave  him  the  information  re- 
quired, A  university  man,  in  ill-health,  come  over  for 
change  of  air  and  scene. 

"  This  is  a  bad  business,"  he  said.  "  But,  Elliot,  mind 
me,  I  don't  believe  one  word  of  what  they  say  against  you. 
I  know  you  too  well,  to  think  it  possible  that  you  thrust 
forward  that  poor  fool  of  a  nobleman  to  fight  your  quarrel. 
It  is  a  lie ! " 

"  It  is,  indeed,"  said  Austin. 

"  I  know  it  is.  I  think  that  this  Captain  Hertford  is 
sorry  for  what  has  happened.  We  must  be  just  to  all 
men,  Elliot.  My  cousin  went  in  the  same  boat  with  him 
to  Antwerp  last  week,  and  he  says  that  he  looked  as  pale  as 
death,  and  as  wild  as  a  hawk." 

There  was  still  time.  The  Dart  was  getting  up  steam 
outside  the  hotel  windows.  Austin  was  not  very  long  in 
getting  on  board  of  her.  Next  morning  he  was  at  Brighton, 
the  same  day  in  London.  The  same  night  with  a  pour 
voyager  passport,  on  board  the  Antwerpen !  In  twenty- 
four  hours  at  Antwerp. 

At  the  Bureau  of  police,  he  got  on  Captain  Hertford's 
trail  at  last,  and  he  followed  it  like  a  bloodhound.  Captains 
Hertford  and  Jackson,  it  appeared,  had  arrived  suspiciously, 
with  very  little  luggage,  and  had  taken  tickets  for  Aix-la- 
Chapelle.  He  followed  on.  At  Aix-la-Chapelle  he  was 
puzzled  again.  He  was  in  Prussian  territory,  and  the  police 
were  not  so  communicative.  But  he  luckily  remembered, 
that  Herr  Nielsen  Keilleter,  the  greatest  man  in  Aix-la- 
Chapelle,  was  an  old  friend  of  his  father's.  He  called  on 
him,  and  the  good  old  man,  little  dreaming  what  he  was 
doing,  gave  him  his  assistance.  Captain  Hertford  and 
Captain  Jackson  had  gone  on  to  Cologne,  further  than 
which,  in  those  days,  the  railway  did  not  go. 

Here,  at  Cologne,  he  was  once  more  left  to  his  mother 
wit.  He  got  hold  of  a  lacquey  de  place,  who  desired  to 
shew  him  the  cathedral,  the  eleven  thousand  virgins,  the 
231 


Austin  Elliot 

skulls  of  Caspar,  Melchior,  and  Baltasar,  and,  as  old  James 
would  have  said,  "  the  hull  biling,"  for  one  thaler.  Being 
interrogated,  the  commissionaire  deponed  that  Captain 
Hertford  was,  at  that  same  speaking,  staying  in  the  hotel 
at  Deutz.  Austin  having  paid  his  thaler,  repaired  there, 
and  found  only  a  gentle  old  Indian  colonel,  by  name  Han- 
ford,  whom  he  disturbed  at  his  dinner.  He  was  quite  at 
fault  again,  and  had  to  leave  the  old  man's  presence 
abashed. 

Ah  !  it  was  a  weary  journey.  Hope  quite  dead,  and  life 
quite  worthless.  He  went  out  and  sat  upon  the  wharf  at 
Deutz,  and  looked  at  the  river,  sweeping,  hissing,  boiling 
on,  under  the  young  May  moon. 

A  great  river.  The  first  he  had  ever  seen.  It  came, 
they  said,  spouting  in  a  thousand  cataracts  out  of  the  ever- 
lasting snow,  and  then  went  gleaming  and  sparkling  on 
through  such  wildly  beautiful  scenery  of  feathering  wood- 
land and  hanging  rock,  as  no  one  could  realize  without 
seeing.  There  was  a  grand  catastrophe  at  Schaffhausen. 
After  that,  it  was  a  mere  dull  sweeping  waste  of  waters, 
and  at  last,  down  there  below  Diisseldorf,  the  mighty 
river,  born  in  the  eternal  snow  crystals,  begins  to  creep 
ignominiously  towards  the  sea,  through  fifty  sluggish 
canals. 

So  poor  Austin  sat  there  for  a  time,  trying  to  compare 
his  life  to  that  of  the  Rhine  ;  quite  forgetting  that  the  river 
only  became  useful  and  beautiful  after  its  catastrophe  at 
Schaffhausen,  and  that  its  real  usefulness  and  its  real 
beauty,  increased  with  every  mile,  till  it  reached  the  sea, 
and  was  lost  in  the  eternity  of  the  ocean.  And  after  a 
time  he  held  his  way  across  the  bridge  of  boats,  towards 
the  great  cathedral,  which  heaved  up  its  mighty  ribs  above 
the  sleeping  town. 

He  gained  no  further  intelligence  of  Captain  Hertford. 

But  in  his  eagerness  of  purpose  his  wit  was  sharp.     He 

knew  that  Captain  Hertford  gamed,  and  would  be  very 

likely  to  be  found  near  gaming  tables.     His  ignorance  of 

232 


Austin  Elliot 

the  world  generally,  and  the  continent  in  particular,  were 
so  very  great,  that  he  did  not  know  which  were  the  places 
hereabout,  where  men  came  to  lose  their  money.  So,  with 
an  Englishman's  instinct,  he  sent  for  the  landlord. 

The  landlord's  son  came :  a  handsome  young  fellow,  who 
had  had  his  nose  slit  in  some  childish  Burschen  duel.  At 
Austin's  question  he  seemed  puzzled.  Answered  that  there 
were  tables  at  Aix-la-Chapelle,  at  which  Monsieur  (they 
spoke  in  French)  could  have  played  (being  a  foreigner)  to 
his  heart's  content. 

Austin  told  him  that  he  did  not  want  to  play.  That  he 
wanted  to  find  a  man,  whom  he  was  most  likely  to  find  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  a  gaming-table. 

"  An  affair  of  honour,  then,"  said  the  young  man. 

"  Well,"  said  Austin,  "  it  is  something  of  that  sort.  I 
feel  sure  you  would  not  betray  me." 

The  young  man  at  once  grew  heroic  and  mysterious. 
He,  too,  had  had  his  affairs,  but  what  imported  it  to  speak 
of  them.  He  laid  his  finger  on  his  wounded  nose,  and  Aus- 
tin did  not  laugh ;  though  when  he  compared  in  his  mind 
the  childish  fencing-match,  in  which  the  young  man  had 
been  engaged,  and  the  affair  in  which  he  would  find  him- 
self in  a  few  days,  he  felt  very  much  inclined  to  do  so. 

This  young  man  informed  him,  that  the  next  place  on 
the  general  route  of  tourists  where  one  played  was  a  place 
called  Ems,  in  the  Duchy  of  Nassau.  That  one  went  from 
hence  by  steamer  to  Coblence,  and  by  diligence  or  voiture^ 
as  one  pleased,  to  Ems.  That  there  were  two  companies 
of  vapour  vessels  on  that  river,  both  of  which  professed  to 
take  one  to  Coblence.  The  one,  the  Cologne  company, 
possessing  a  magnificent  fleet,  swift  as  the  wind,  officered 
by  gentlemen,  supplied  with  every  luxury ;  the  other,  the 
Diisseldorf  company,  composed  of  miserable  and  rotten 
boats,  slow,  dirty,  officered  by  abusive  villains,  who  too 
often  succeeded  in  the  dearest  wish  of  their  hearts,  that  of 
abimer  in  the  depths  of  their  noble  river,  not  only  their 
rotten  boat,  but  also  their  deluded  passengers. 
233 


Austin  Elliot 

Austin  having  been  previously  recommended  by  a  friend 
to  go  by  tlie  Diisseidorf  company,  as  being  the  best  of  the 
two,  felt  very  much  inclined,  after  this  exhibition  of  spite, 
to  do  so.  He  decided  to  go  on  by  the  first  boat,  and  did 
so.     It  was  a  Cologne  boat. 

He  remembers  that  after  they  got  beyond  Bonn  there 
was  some  fine  scenery,  or  he  thinks  there  was,  because  a 
noble  young  American,  with  whom  he  made  immediate 
acquaintance  on  board,  kept  calling  his  attention  to  it. 
But  he  was  too  anxious  to  care  whether  the  hills  were  ten 
feet  high  or  ten  thousand.  His  time  was  getting  short. 
His  bail  would  be  forfeited  in  little  more  than  a  fortnight, 
and  Captain  Hertford  as  far  from  being  found  as  ever. 

He  slept  that  night  at  the  "  Giant,"  at  Coblence,  and  the 
next  morning  rumbled  quietly  away  towards  Ems,  up  the 
pleasant  Lahn  valley,  before  the  mists  had  fully  rolled  away 
from  the  summits  of  the  sheets  of  feathering  woodland, 
which  rose  overhead  on  all  sides. 

He  put  up  at  the  Hotel  de  Russie,  and,  after  breakfast, 
went  down  to  the  Kursal,  which  round  the  Kesselbrunn, 
and  the  Kranchen,  was  thronged  with  all  sorts  of  people 
drinking  the  waters ;  and  here  he  loitered  for  something  like 
half-an-hour,  until  some  one  pushed  against  him  acciden- 
tally in  the  crowd,  and  apologized  to  him.  It  was  a  mag- 
nificent Tyrolese,  the  first  that  Austin  had  ever  seen.  The 
man's  enormous  stature,  the  honest  repose  of  his  face,  his 
grand  dress,  and  his  elegant  easy  carriage,  attracted  Aus- 
tin. It  was  a  new  animal,  and  a  very  remarkable  one.  He 
smiled  and  returned  the  man's  courtesy  in  French.  Fol- 
lowing him  with  his  eyes,  he  saw  that,  grand  as  he  was, 
he  was  only  the  keeper  of  a  stall  for  the  sale  of  Tyrolese 
nick-nacks,  but  he  determined  to  have  some  talk  with  him. 
He  went  up  and  bought  some  trifle  or  another,  and  engaged 
him  in  conversation  for  a  little  time.  At  last  he  asked, 
"  Had  he  a  chamois  head  }  "  The  man  had  not,  "  But  if 
Monsieur  would  accompany  him  to  his  brother's  stall,  he 
should  have  his  choice  of  several." 
234 


Austin  Elliot 

Monsieur  did  so,  and  as  Monsieur  approached  our 
younger  brother's  stall,  he  became  aware  that  Captain 
Hertford  was  standing  in  front  of  it,  bargaining  for  a  pair 
of  gloves. 

Austin  turned  to  the  Tyrolese,  and  raised  his  finger. 
The  man,  with  instinctive  high-bred  courtesy,  bowed,  and 
turned  back  to  his  own  stall,  and  Austin  stood,  not  quite 
certain  how  to  proceed. 

Captain  Hertford  bought  his  gloves,  and  turning  into 
the  main  room  of  the  Kursal,  approached  the  counter  in 
front  of  the  spring.  It  was  evident  that  he  was  going  to 
drink  his  waters. 

He  had  the  red  Bohemian  glass  raised  to  his  lips,  when 
Austin  came  behind  him,  and  said,  quietly,  "Captain 
Hertford ! " 

Captain  Hertford  was  no  coward;  but  he  knew  the 
voice,  and  when  he  turned  he  was  as  pale  as  death.  When 
he  saw  Austin's  wild  face,  the  glass  he  held  fell  from  his 
hand,  and  flew,  splintered,  in  a  hundred  ruby  crystals, 
about  the  stone  pavement  at  his  feet. 

"  I  suppose  you  know  what  I  want  of  you,"  said  Austin. 

"  Do  you  want  satisfaction  ?  "  said  Captain  Hertford,  in 
a  low  voice. 

"  Yes." 

"  It  is  a  mistake.  That  last  business  was  devilish  hor- 
rid.   Do  you  repeat  that  you  want  satisfaction  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Very  well,  your  blood  is  on  your  own  head.  Shall  you 
send  to-day  ?  " 

"  Yes.    Who  am  I  to  send  to  ?  " 

"  Jackson  and  I  are  at  the  Hotel  d'Angleterre,  over  the 
river.     Good  morning." 

He  did  not  know  a  soul  there ;  he  had  to  go  and  find 
Captain  Jackson  to  get  an  introduction  to  some  one. 
Captain  Jackson  found  him  a  Frenchman,  who  was  much 
pleased  with  the  business,  and  who  proceeded  to  make  all 
arrangements.  He  returned  soon  to  Austin,  and  told  him 
235 


Austin  Elliot 

that  they  were  to  walk  out  that  very  evening  to  a  place 
called  Dausenau. 

They,  at  the  time  appointed,  sauntered  up  along  the 
road,  to  the  quaint  old  village,  and  turned  up  to  the  left, 
into  a  romantic,  deeply-wooded  glen ;  through  the  bright 
green  meadows  of  which  a  bright  trout-stream  came  flash- 
ing and  pausing,  and  babbling  pleasantly  of  peace,  and 
spring-tide,  and  hope.  Austin  for  one  instant,  mad, 
ruined,  and  desperate  as  he  was,  felt  the  influence  of  the 
June  evening  tide,  and  longed  to  be  at  rest  —  in  his  grave 
if  need  were  —  to  be  anywhere  but  where  he  was.  Feel- 
ing no  fear,  but  a  mixture  of  grief,  remorse,  and  horror 
difficult  to  bear,  preserving  reason  at  the  same  time. 

While  in  this  frame  of'  mind,  he  passed  near  a  mill  and 
out  into  a  meadow,  and  there  was  the  author  of  all  this 
misery  and  woe  before  him.  In  less  than  ten  minutes  he 
was  standing  cool  and  calm,  face  to  face  with  him,  with  a 
loaded  pistol  in  his  hand.  Surely  Hertford's  day  of  reck- 
oning was  come.     Not  yet. 

Austin  had  no  more  intention  of  firing  his  pistol  at  Cap- 
taid  Hertford,  than  he  had  of  blowing  out  his  own  brains. 
The  last  affair  had  been,  as  Captain  Hertford  said,  so  hor- 
rid, that  Austin  was  determined  that  he  would  never  again 
have  any  hand  in  a  repetition  of  such  a  thing,  unless  he 
himself  were  the  victim.  So  when  Captain  Hertford  had 
fired,  and  he  heard  the  ball  whistle  close  by  his  head,  he 
turned  coolly  away  and  fired  at  a  piece  of  rock  among  the 
copse  on  the  right  of  the  meadow. 

But  Captain  Hertford  insisted  upon  another  shot ;  and 
this  brought  on  a  general  wrangle,  during  which  it  became 
painfully  evident  that  the  gallant  captain  had  been  drink- 
ing. There  was  nothing  to  be  done  but  to  place  the  men 
again,  it  seemed.  This  time  Austin  again  fired  away  to 
the  right,  and,  luckily  for  himself,  was  very  slightly  grazed 
on  the  leg.  The  affair  was,  of  course,  instantly  stopped, 
Austin  had  fought  his  first  and  last  duel.  He  had  satis- 
fied every  requirement  that  the  most  punctilious  bully 
236 


Austin  Elliot 

could  make.  He  had  hunted  Captain  Hertford  over  the 
Continent  till  he  had  found  him,  had  had  him  out,  and 
had  been  unluckily  wounded  by  him.  He  appealed  to  the 
three  others ;  they  confirmed  him.  Jackson  said  that  he 
would  take  care  that  everything  should  be  known  in  Lon- 
don on  his  return,  and  Austin  limped  off  back  to  Ems, 
somewhat  lighter  in  heart  than  before.  He  had  faced  one 
of  his  troubles  successfully ;  his  reputation  was  secure 
again ;  he  could  look  a  man  in  the  face ;  he  had  made 
due  pilgrimage  to  the  outraged  idol,  honour,  and  had  done 
sacrifice.  The  god  was  slightly  in  his  debt  —  or,  at  all 
events,  things  were  about  square  between  them.  This 
was,  so  far,  satisfactory.  He  knew  (who  better  ? )  that 
this  fetish  he  had  been  taught  to  worship,  was  a  cruel  and 
vindictive  demon ;  but,  like  a  true  idolater,  he  believed 
that,  by  overloading  his  idol  with  sacrifices,  he  might  lay 
it  under  obligations,  and,  so  to  speak,  have  a  case  against 
it,  a  case  which,  under  some  sort  of  law,  would  hold  good, 
and  must  be  attended  to. 

"  Was  it  for  this,"  says  the  old  nigger  in  that  most  beau- 
tiful book, "  The  Cruise  of  the  Midge,"  after  he  had  pitched 
his  idol  into  the  lee  scuppers  in  his  wrath,  "  was  it  for  this 
that  I  gave  you  chicken,  and  stick  fedder  in  your  tail  — 
eh  .'* "  He,  like  Austin,  had  a  strong  case  against  his 
fetish. 


Chapter  XXXI 

Austin  made  his  appearance  in  due  time  at  his  attor- 
ney's office  in  Lincoln's  Inn.  The  clerks  looked  very 
grave,  and  one  of  them  showed  him  into  the  presence  of 
the  old  man.  Austin  saw  him  rise  hurriedly  and  turn 
pale  when  he  appeared ;  Austin  shook  him  warmly  by  the 
hand. 

"  So  you  have  come  back,"  said  the  attorney.  "  Ah, 
foolish,  foolish  boy.  How  I  have  hoped  and  prayed  that 
237 


Austin  Elliot 

you  might  be  too  late.  But  stay ;  there  is  time.  My  dear 
Austin,  let  me  beg  you  on  my  knees,  for  the  sake  of  your 
good  name  and  your  father's  memory,  to  go  back  to 
France  this  night.  Think  that  in  three  days  it  will  be  too 
late  for  ever." 

"  I  cannot,  old  friend,  in  honour.  The  wrong  I  have 
done  to  the  law  shall  be  punished  by  the  law.  Say  no 
more  about  it." 

The  old  man  said  no  more.  He  did  not  hide  from 
Austin  that  he  feared  a  conviction ;  that  he  hardly  knew 
how  it  was  to  be  avoided. 

"  God's  will  be  done.    You  feel  sure  of  a  conviction  ?  " 

*'  Almost." 

"  The  jury  acquitted   P last    March,"  suggested 

Austin.* 

"  In  direct  opposition  to  Erie's  summing  up,"  said  the 
old  man,  eagerly.     "  And  why  ?     Because  they  believed 

that  it  was  Liston's  operation  which  killed  S ,  and 

not  H 's  bullet.     That  is  why.     They  gave  him  the 

benefit  of  that  doubt  because  —  because  —  well,  because 

their  sympathies  went  with  P .    They  considered  him 

blameless  —  only  a  young  fellow  who  had  done  what  fifty 
others  had  done  before  him  ;  gone  out  with  his  friend." 

"  And  their  sympathies  will  not  be  with  me,  then  ?  " 
said  Austin. 

"No,"  said  the  old  man  steadily.  "If  it  kills  me  to  say 
so  to  your  father's  son,  I  will  say  it.  This  duel  has  been 
talked  about  a  great  deal.  Lord  Charles  Barty  was  a  young 
man  of  great  promise,  and  the  newspapers  have  written 
leading  articles  about  it.  It  has  made  a  great  stir  in  Lon- 
don. But  all  ranks  and  all  parties  agree  in  condemning 
you.  Everybody  knows,  or  think  they  do,  that  you  and 
Captain  Hertford  were  rivals  for  the  hand  of  this  Miss 
Hilton.  Everybody  has  heard  that  you  went  to  the 
United  University  Club,  and  spoke  threateningly  about 
Captain  Hertford.  Everybody  (except  myself  and  those 
*  Referring  to  the  Gosport  duel. 
238 


Austin  Elliot 

who  know  you)  believe  that  you  let  Lord  Charles  fight 
this  duel  for  you.  Among  others  who  believe  this  are  the 
jury.  The  judge  will  tell  them,  in  summing  up,  to  banish 
from  their  minds  all  that  they  have  previously  heard  about 
the  case  ;  but  they  won't,  not  if  I  know  'em  ;  they  never 

do,  confound  'em.     Look  at  P 's  acquittal,  Austin,  my 

poor  boy,  and  there  read  the  story  of  your  own  convic- 
tion." 

"  I  see  what  you  mean  very  well,"  said  Austin ;  "  that  in 
P 's  case  they  knew,  from  what  they  had  heard  else- 
where, that  he  was,  as  near  as  possible  in  such  a  case, 
blameless  ;  that  in  mine,  from  what  they  have  heard  else- 
where, they  believe  me  more  morally  guilty  than  the  prin- 
cipals themselves  ;  and,  therefore,  that  they  will  convict. 
Is  it  not  so  ?  " 

"  That  is  the  state  of  the  case.  But  there  is  time  to  get 
out  of  the  way.  You  can  make  everything  good,  and  so 
on.  It  is  nothing.  You  ought  to  be  off  now.  Come, 
let  us  go."^ 

"  No,"  said  Austin,  "  I  think  not.  I  think,  old  friend, 
that  we  will  see  this  matter  out  to  the  very  end.  I  am  so 
careless  of  life  now,  that  I  would  rather  be  punished  in 
this  world  somewhat.  It  would,  at  all  events,  give  me 
the  feeling,  to  the  end  of  my  wretched  life,  that  if  I  had 
sinned,  so  also  had  I  suffered.  It  may  not,  you  say,  abate 
one  jot  of  my  eternal  punishment  hereafter ;  but,  speaking 
in  a  selfish  point  of  view,  I  would  sooner  let  this  matter 
take  its  course.  I  will  not  have  the  whole  of  the  retribu- 
tion, which  must  come  on  me  sooner  or  later,  left  for  the 
next  world." 

•*  I  do  not  know  what  more  to  say,  Austin  Elliot,"  said 
the  attorney.     "  Must  we  go  on  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  I  have  broke  God's  laws,  as  well  as  man's. 
I  have  been  mad.  Do  you  know  what  I  have  been  doing 
abroad  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Committing  another  crime.  I  hunted  that  man,  Hert- 
239 


Austin  Elliot 

ford,  till  I  found  him,  and  then  had  him  out.  I  need  hard- 
iy  tell  you  that  I  would  have  died  sooner  than  fire  at  him. 
But  in  doing  this  I  have  committed  another  crime,  I  fired 
away  from  him,  but  still  I  gave  him  the  chance  of  adding 
to  his  guilt  in  murdering  me.  I  will  take  my  punishment 
for  both,  and  try  to  bear  it.  But  I  shall  die.  Let  us  speak 
of  business.  About  those  papers  which  you  were  to  get 
ready  ?  " 

"  This  plan  of  yours,"  said  the  attorney,  after  a  long 
pause,  "  of  conveying  your  property  won't  do.  I  have  had 
the  best  opinion  about  it.  Lord  Cardigan  tried  it  six  years 
ago,  and  it  is  the  opinion  of  the  best  men  that  you  had 
better  trust  to  the  mercy  of  the  Crown.  In  Lord  Cardi- 
gan's case,  it  was  a  flagrant  attempt  to  defeat  justice.  It 
would  not  be  allowed  again.  It  must  not  be  even  men- 
tioned. Your  chance  is  submission.  If  you  choose  to 
sign  your  will,  do  so.  You  will  go  and  see  Miss  Hilton 
to-morrow  ?  " 

"  No ;  Eleanor  has  made  her  bed,  and  must  lie  on  it. 
I  love  her,  old  friend,  but  she  could  keep  a  secret  from  me 
which  she  could  tell  to  that  cut-throat  bully,  Hertford." 

"  I  wish  I  was  in  possession  of  facts,"  said  the  attorney. 
*'  If  I  was,  I  should  find  that  you  were  utterly  wrong.  I 
know  that  as  surely  as  I  know  that  the  sun  shines.  Come, 
go  to  her." 

"  I  ought  not,  I  dare  not,  I  will  not.  Have  it  which  way 
you  will.  She,  by  her  absurd  affectation  of  mystery, 
helped  to  make  me  mad  and  jealous.  If  she  cares  for  me, 
let  her  come  to  me  in  prison,  and  make  it  up  there.  In 
prison,  I  say.  They  won't  Mn^-  me,  will  they  ?  By  Gad  ! 
they  won't  dare  to  do  that." 

"  Erie,"  said  the  attorney,  looking  steadily  .at  Austin, 

"  when  summing  up  in  P 's  case,  laid  down  that  every 

one  present  at  a  duel,  either  as  principal  or  second,  was 
guilty  of  murder.  They  cou/d  hang  you,  you  know. 
Perhaps  they  won't.  Indeed,  I  don't  believe  they  will. 
Transportation  for  life  is  generally  the  next  sentence,  aftef 
240 


Austin  Elliot 

that  twenty- one  years,  then  fourteen.  Fourteen  years  is 
a  devilish  long  time,  and  you  might  be  at  Boulogne  to- 
morrow morning." 

This  was  the  hardest  assault  that  Austin  had  had.  He 
stood  firm  under  it,  and  the  attorney,  seeing  nothing  was 
to  be  made  of  him,  told  him  that,  if  convicted,  he  would 
probably  be  imprisoned  for  a  month,  possibly  for  six. 
And  after  this  they  parted. 

***** 

Let  her  come  to  him  in  prison,  if  she  really  loved  him. 
Let  her  explain  her  deceit  there.  And  there  let  him  tell 
her  that  he  had  forgiven  her  —  that  he  was  a  ruined  man 
—  that  it  did  not  consort  with  his  honour  that  their  en- 
gagement should  go  on  —  that  his  pride  would  not  allow 
him  to  link  an  heiress  of  such  brilliant  prospects,  with  his 
own  desperate  fortunes.     Then  let  them  part  for  ever. 

Austin  went  to  prison  in  due  time,  and  dreed  his  weird 
there  as  we  shall  see.  But  she  never  came  near  him  there. 
And  yet  have  I  done  my  work  so  very  poorly  that  you 
distrust  her  ?    I  hope  not. 


Chapter   XXXII 

It  was  a  most  interesting  case,  and  the  court  was 
crowded.  The  newspapers  had  been  clamouring  for  a 
conviction.  P  — ,  they  said,  had  been  acquitted  through 
false  sentimentality  on  the  part  of  the  jury.  The  news- 
papers did  not  complain  of  this.     P was  as  innocent 

as  a  man  might  be  under  such  circumstances.  A  noble 
young  fellow,  who  could  not  have  acted  in  any  other  way, 
a  man  who  bore  the  highest  character  in  every  way.  But 
still  a  conviction  was  wanted,  and  this  was  the  very  case 
in  which  to  convict.  This  young  man,  Elliot,  had  noto- 
riously thrust  his  friend  Lord  Charles  Barty  into  a  quarrel, 
which  should  have  been  his  own,  and  had  sneaked  out  of 
it  himself.  By  every  law,  human  and  divine,  by  civil  law, 
241 


Austin  Elliot 

and  by  the  laws  of  honour,  this  Elliot  was  the  man  to  make 
an  example  of. 

The  question  was,  "  Would  he  put  in  an  appearance  ?  " 
The  more  long-headed  and  shrewd  people  said,  "  O  Lord, 
no  !  there  was  not  a  chance  of  it.  That  you  might  make 
your  mind  quite  easy  on  that  score,  my  good  fellow. 
That  they  believed  they  knew  something  of  the  world,  and 
that  they  put  it  to  you,  as  a  judge  of  human  nature,  and  a 
reasonable  being,  whether  it  was  likely  that  he  would  put 
in  an  appearance  after  three  weeks'  law."  The  men,  who 
knew  Austin  best,  thought  quite  differently,  and  had  to 
endure  what  the  deep  dogs  before  mentioned  said  of  him, 
which,  accompanied  as  it  was  with  that  peculiar  contempt- 
uous smile,  which  the  deep  dogs  aforesaid  generally  as- 
sume, when  they  are  being  deeper  than  usual,  was  very 
hard  to  bear,  but  which  had  to  be  endured  (as  we  said 
before  of  unendurable  things)  nevertheless. 

"  It  was  against  Austin  Elliot's  interest  to  appear. 
Therefore,  he  would  not  appear."  Conclusion  not  all 
right,  by  any  means,  in  consequence  of  the  omission  of  a 
rather  important  middle  term.  It  is  astonishing  how 
some  shallow  men,  merely  from  the  fact  of  denying  the 
possibility  of  a  man  acting  on  high  and  disinterested  mo- 
tives, get  to  think  themselves  worldly  wise ;  and  it  is  still 
more  astonishing,  how  wiser  and  better  men  than  them- 
selves shake  their  heads,  and  give  them  credit  for  worldly 
wisdom  and  knowledge  of  human  nature.  Why,  the  pick- 
pockets and  thieves  in  any  police-court,  will  show  them 
what  nonsense  they  talk,  when  they  place  self-interest  as 
the  only  source  of  human  action.  But  if  you  bray  a  fool 
in  a  mortar,  he  will  only  turn  round  on  you,  and  offer  to 
prove  that  he  was  right  from  the  beginning. 

So,  when  Austin's  name  was  called,  and  he  stepped 
quietly  into  the  dock,  and  stood  there  pale  and  anxious, 
but  perfectly  calm ;  the  wise  men  were  slightly  puzzled, 
but  made  out  in  a  few  minutes,  the  theory,  that  Austin's 
game  was  to  submit,  throw  himself  on  the  mercy  of  the 
242 


Austin  Elliot 

court,  and  save  his  property.  Oh  !  deep-dyed  idiots  !  So 
utterly  unable  to  appreciate  the  grief,  the  despair,  the  hor- 
ror in  that  wild  young  heart ;  and  the  strange,  half- 
heathenish  feeling,  which  was  there  too,  that  he  might,  by 
suffering  in  his  own  person,  atone  for  his  sin ;  and  that  by 
faithfully  and  unflinchingly  going  through  this  adventure 
to  the  end,  by  enduring  courageously  all  the  consequences 
of  it,  that  he  might  perhaps  raise  himself  to  the  level  of  his 
dead  friend.  So  the  mainspring  of  all  human  action  is 
self-interest,  gentlemen  !  So  you  have  never  had  a  friend, 
and  never  want  one !  Let  us  grant  you,  that  the  Samari- 
tan was  going  to  stand  for  Jericho,  and  was  glad  of  the 
opportunity  of  striking  a  blow  at  the  Levite  interest,  and 
let  us  have  done  with  it.  He  only  gave  the  landlord  two 
pence,  and  we  never  hear  of  his  having  come  back  and 
paid  the  rest  of  the  score.  Is  that  the  way  you  would 
argue?  Very  well;  he  did  the  thing  very  cheap.  He 
was  a  long-headed  man.  You  will  probably,  however, 
not  find  him  in  the  same  circle  of  the  Paradise  of  Fools 
with  yourselves. 

It  all  turned  out  as  Austin's  attorney  had  predicted. 
Every  member  of  the  jury  had  been  talking  about  the  duel 
this  three  weeks  past. 

The  escape  of  Prince  Louis  Buonaparte  from  Ham,  and 
the  Barty-Hertford  duel,  had  been  the  main  subjects  of 
conversation  among  them  for  that  time.  When  they  sat 
in  that  box,  they  were  requested  to  dismiss  from  their 
minds  all  that  they  had  heard  outside  that  court.  A 
modest  request  this,  to  ask  twelve  men  to  forget  what 
they  had  been  talking  about  for  the  last  fortnight.  It  was 
not  complied  with ;  it  was  childish  to  suppose  that  it  could 
be ;  no  one  ever  did  think  that  it  would  be ;  Austin  was 
condemned  before  he  came  into  court.  Counsel  spoke  on 
each  side.  The  counsel  for  the  prosecution  were  very 
moderate,  the  counsel  for  the  defence  did  their  best,  which 
was  nothing.  The  judge  summed  up  almost  in  the  very 
words  of  Mr.  Justice  Erie  two  months  before,  in  a  similar 
243 


Austin  Elliot 

case,  but  every  one  of  the  jury  had  formed  their  own 
opinion ;  and  that  opinion  was  identical  in  all  the  twelve 
of  them,  to  wit,  that  Austin  had  not  acted  "  honourable," 
and  so  they  found  him  guilty  of  manslaughter.  A  per- 
fectly just  finding  ;  but  on  perfectly  unjust  grounds. 

The  judge  gave  a  glance  at  the  jury,  in  which,  said 
Lome  who  watched  him,  there  was  a  slight  gleam  of  con- 
tempt. He  paused  before  he  passed  sentence,  and  when 
lie  began  to  speak,  he  spoke  rather  low.  "  It  had  pleased 
Almighty  God,"  he  said,  "  for  some  inscrutable  reason,  to 
strike  down  the  prisoner  at  the  bar,  in  the  very  beginning 
of  what  some  had  thought  would  have  been  a  very  noble 
oind  glorious  career.  He,  as  an  old  man,  earnestly  prayed 
the  prisoner  at  the  bar,  that  in  the  solitude  and  seclusion, 
to  which  he  was  now  to  be  condemned,  that  he  would 
take  this  lesson  to  heart,  and  remember  that  God  only 
chastened  in  his  infinite  love." 

A  pause,  and  a  profound  silence.  The  jury  felt  uneasy, 
o.nd  began  to  wish  they  had  done  like  P — 's  jury,  and  let 
kjie  young  gentleman  off. 

The  judge  went  on,  though  his  voice  was  a  little  husky. 
•'■  I  would  not  add  one  iota  to  the  terrible  remorse  which  I 
Lnow  you  feel.  Nay,  I  would  lighten  it.  Remember  my 
'-vords  in  prison.  If  this  chastisement  is  taken  to  heart, 
vhe  time  will  come,  Austin  Elliot,  when  you  may  bless  the 
day  in  which  you  stood  in  that  dock.  I  am  condemning 
you  to  social  and  political  death.  At  this  moment  a  cloud 
passes  over  your  life,  hitherto  so  bright  and  happy,  the 
shadow  of  which  will  remain,  and  will  never  wholly  pass 
away  from  you  again,  on  this  side  the  grave.  The  jury 
have  done  their  duty.     It  remains  for  me  to  do  mine. 

"  One  year's  imprisonment." 

The  turnkey  tapped  him  on  the  shoulder,  and  he  followed 
the  turnkey  out,  and  was  given  over  to  a  policeman.  He 
brushed  the  shoulder  of  the  next  prisoner,  a  young  man,  a 
burglar,  who  looked  at  him  curiously,  and  laughed,  and 
said  that  it  was  a  good  thing  that  the  swells  got  it  some- 
244 


Austin  Elliot^ 

times,  though  if  he  had  the  giving  on  it  to  *em  — .  Austin 
didn't  hear  any  more  than  that,  and  did  not  appreciate  or 
care  about  what  he  had  heard.  He  was  confused,  and 
felt  as  if  he  was  going  to  be  ill.  He  asked  for  some  water, 
and  they  gave  it  to  him,  and  then  he  sat  down  and  began 
thinking. 

A  year.  This  was  1846.  Then  it  would  be  1847. 
What  was  the  day  of  the  month  .^  He  could  not  re- 
member, and  asked  the  policeman. 

The  eleventh  of  June.  The  policeman  repeatea  it  twice, 
and  then  Austin  thanked  him,  but  his  mind  was  elsewhere. 
A  woman  who  sat  opposite  to  him,  a  weary  witness,  had 
got  on  odd  boots.  They  were  both  black  jean  boots,  and 
were  both  for  the  right  foot.  One  was  trodden  on  one 
side,  and  the  other  was  gone  at  the  toes,  but  Austin  was 
wide  awake  enough  to  see  that  they  were  both  right-foot 
boots.  You  couldn't  take  him  in.  What  a  fool  the 
woman  must  be ;  perhaps  she  was  drunk  when  she  put 
them  on.  She  looked  a  drunken  sort  of  a  drab.  But 
there  was  something  funny  in  it.  Austin,  God  help  him, 
had  a  quiet  laugh  over  it ;  and  soon  they  told  him  it  was 
time  to  go. 

And  so  he  went,  patient  and  contented  enough,  for 
happily  he  was  just  now  past  feeling  anything  acutely. 
As  he  was  going  down  the  corridor,  something  struck  him. 
When  he  had  started  from  home  that  morning,  his  dog 
Robin  had  followed  him,  and  would  not  be  driven  back. 
He  remembered  that  now.  He  asked  a  policeman,  who 
was  standing  by,  to  see  after  the  dog  for  him,  and  take 
him  to  Miss  Hilton's,  in  Wilton  Crescent,  and  said  she 
would  give  him  five  shillings.  The  man  said,  "  Yes,  he 
would,"  and  Austin  thanked  him,  and  as  he  stepped 
through  the  crowd  into  the  prison  van,  he  looked  round 
for  his  dog,  but  could  not  see  him. 

Robin  had  seen  him,  though,  and  was  quite  contented. 
His  master,  thought  he,  was  busy  to-day,  and  was  nov/ 
going  for  a  drive.     Robin  had  waited  for  Austin  in  ail 

245 


Austin  Elliot 

sorts  of  places,  for  all  sorts  of  times,  and  had  seen  Austin 
get  into  all  sorts  of  carriages  and  drive  away  without 
thinking  about  him.  His  custom,  on  these  occasions, 
was  to  tear  along  the  street,  in  front  of  the  vehicle  into 
which  Austin  had  got  —  be  it  cab,  carriage,  or  omnibus  — 
with  joyous  bark,  ready  to  take  his  part  in  the  next  pleas- 
ant adventure  which  should  befall.  So  now  he  dashed 
through  the  crowded  Old  Bailey  at  the  hazard  of  his  life, 
racing  and  leaping  in  front  of  the  prison-van  which  held 
his  ruined  and  desperate  master,  as  if  this  were  the  best 
fun  of  all. 

The  van  took  Austin  to  the  great  bald  prison  by  the 
river-side,  and  he  was  hurried  in.  The  cruel  iron  door 
clanged  behind  him,  and  sent  its  echoes  booming  through 
the  long  dismal  whitewashed  corridors.  And  the  clang  of 
that  door  fell  like  a  deathknell  on  his  ear.  "  I  am  con- 
demning you,"  said  the  judge,  "  to  social  and  political 
death."  He  knew  it  now.  The  door  jarred,  and  clanged  ; 
and  the  world  knew  Austin  Elliot  no  more. 

Outside  that  great  prison-door  all  was  glorious  June 
sunshine ;  the  river  flashing  on,  covered  with  busy  craft, 
towards  the  tall  blue  dome  which  rose  into  the  air  above 
the  drifting  smoke,  far  away  eastward.  The  June  sun 
smote  fiercely  on  the  long  prison-wall,  on  the  quiet  road 
which  passed  it,  on  the  great  iron  door  which  had  shut  in 
Austin  Elliot  and  all  his  high-built  hopes  and  fancies. 
There  is  not  a  duller  place  in  all  London  than  that  river- 
terrace  beneath  the  prison-wall.  There  is  never  anything 
to  see  there.  People  who  have  cause  to  go  that  way 
generally  hurry  past;  there  is  nothing  to  see  there  in 
general. 

But  for  many  days  after  this,  people  who  had  passed  in 
a  hurry  came  dawdling  back  again  :  for  there  was  some- 
thing to  attract  them,  though  they  would  have  been 
troubled  to  tell  you  what.  There  sat,  all  this  time,  a  dog 
against  the  prison-door,  in  the  burning  sunshine  —  a  dog 
who  sat  patient  and  spoke  to  no  other  dogs,  but  who 
246 


Austin  Elliot 

propped  himself  up  against  the  nails  and  bars,  and  panted 
in  the  heat,  and  snapped  sometimes  at  the  flies.  Those 
who  turned  and  came  back  again  knew,  by  their  mother 
wit,  that  the  dog  had  seen  some  one  go  into  that  prison, 
and  had  set  himself  to  wait  till  he  came  out  again  ;  and 
they  spoke  in  low  tones  the  one  to  the  other,  and  tried  to 
get  the  dog  away,  but  he  would  not  come.  And  one  slip- 
shod drunken  woman,  whose  husband  was  also  behind 
that  door,  urged  by  some  feeling  of  sickly  sentimentality, 
which  we  will  charitably  attribute  to  gin,  if  you  please,  lest 
we  should  be  accused  of  sentimentality  ourselves ;  brought 
the  dog  what  we  strongly  suspect  to  have  been  her  own 
dinner,  and  stood  by  while  he  ate  it.  Robin,  poor  dog ! 
made  many  friends  during  his  solitary  watch  under  the 
burning  prison-wall ;  for  the  people  who  pass  by  Mill- 
bank  are  mostly  of  the  class  whose  highest  idea  of  virtue 
is  a  certain  blind  self-sacrificing  devotion  —  (reasons  of 
such  devotion,  or  merit  of  object,  not  to  be  inquired  into 
by  respectable  folks,  if  you  please). 

So  Robin  kept  watch  in  the  burning  sun,  and  got  him- 
self precariously  fed  by  thieves  and  thieves'  wives.  Some- 
times the  great  door  behind  him  would  be  opened,  and 
then  he  would  lope  out  into  the  middle  of  the  street,  and, 
with  his  head  on  one  side,  peer  eagerly  up  the  dim  vista  of 
whitewashed  passages  beyond.  The  blue-coated  warders 
would  whistle  to  him,  and  say,  "  Here,  poor  fellow ! "  but 
he  would  only  shake  his  long  drooping  tail  for  an  instant, 
almost  imperceptibly,  and  stand  where  he  was.  If  there 
was  a  stranger  present,  the  blue-coated  warders  would  tell 
him,  that  that  was  the  dog  of  a  young  swell,  they  had  got 
inside  for  duelling,  and  that  that  dog  had  been  there  for 
above  a  week.  Then  the  door  would  be  shut  again,  and 
Robin  would  take  his  old  post  in  the  sun,  and  catch  the 
flies. 

For  more  than  ten  days  he  stayed  there.  At  the  end  of 
that  time  he  went  away.  The  great  door  was  open  one 
day,  and  three  or  four  warders  were  standing  about.  Rob- 
247 


Austin  Elliot 

in  had  gone  into  the  middle  of  the  street,  when  a  very 
tall,  handsome  young  man  came  walking  by  with  his  eyes 
fixed  on  the  prison. 

He  nearly  stumbled  over  Robin.  When  Robin  saw 
him,  he  leaped  upon  him,  and  the  young  man  caught  him 
in  his  bosom.  And  the  young  man  was  of  the  Scotch 
nation,  for  he  said  — 

"  It's  his  ain  dog,  if  it's  no  his  ain  self.  What,  Robin, 
boy,  do  you  mind  Gil  Macdonald,  and  the  bonny  hill-sides 
of  Ronaldsay ! " 


Chapter  XXXIII 

So  went  matters  outside  the  prison-door,  in  the  bright 
summer  sunshine.  Inside  that  door  a  generous,  noble- 
minded,  unselfish  young  man  ;  a  young  man  who  had,  in 
his  time,  according  to  the  light  which  had  been  shown 
him,  his  lofty  aspirations  towards  the  only  good  he  knew 
of,  political  and  social  success  ;  was  left  without  a  friend  or 
a  hope,  beating  himself  to  desperation  and  death  against 
his  prison-bars.     Dare  you  come  in  } 

But,  in  going,  we  may  take  this  comfort  with  us :  Austin 
would  have  required  very  long  drilling  to  have  made  a 
high  place  in  public  life.  Of  that  I  feel  quite  sure.  He 
was  far  too  impulsive  and  thoughtless ;  far  too  prone  to 
believe  the  last  thing  which  was  told  him,  to  accept  the  last 
theory  put  before  him,  and  to  say  that  it  must  be  the  best ; 
to  have  succeeded.  Practice  would  have  given  him  the 
power  of  closing  his  ears  to  argument,  and  acting  only  on 
foregone  conclusions.  Practice  might  have  given  him  the 
trick  of  listening  to  his  opponent,  and  ignoring  all  his 
sound  arguments,  catching  him  when  he  tripped :  would 
have,  in  time,  formed  him  into  a  shallow  and  untruthful 
debater,  of  the  third  class,  like  —  (Heaven  help  us,  where 
are  we  getting  to  now  .'*)  He  was  born  for  nobler  things 
than  to  be  a  little  dog,  doing  the  barking  for  big  dogs, 
248 


Austin  Elliot 

with  thick  skins  and  strong  nerves,  who  meant  biting.  He 
would,  I  fear,  have  dropped  into  a  low  place.  His  habit 
of  seeing  the  best  side  of  all  opinions,  and  of  having 
none  of  his  own,  his  terror  of  adverse  criticism,  and  his 
almost  childish  anger  against  opponents,  would  have  made 
him  but  a  poor  man  for  public  life.  He  would  have  suc- 
cessively believed  all  creeds,  till  he  had  none  of  his  own. 

That  June  morning  we  know  of,  they  shut  the  gate  be- 
hind him,  and  he  knew  that  it  was  all  over  and  done.  He 
felt  that  he  had  died  his  first  death,  and  that  the  clang  of 
that  door  was  as  the  rattling  of  the  earth  on  his  coffin.  At 
that  moment,  he  saw,  so  great  is  Divine  mercy,  among  the 
burnt  ashes  of  his  past  life,  one  gleaming  spark  of  hope ; 
he  had,  at  all  events,  seen  the  worst,  short  of  death ;  he 
was  young  and  the  world  was  large ;  his  imprisonment 
would  be  over  soon,  only  a  year.  The  world  was  very  large. 
There  were  other  worlds  besides  this  cruel,  inexorable 
English  one. 

But  that  spark  of  hope  disappeared  for  a  time,  when  the 
sordid  unbeautiful  realities  of  his  prison  life  began  to  be 
felt.  His  idea  was,  that  he  would  be  locked  up  beween 
four  walls,  and  left  to  eat  his  heart,  until  his  time  was  out. 
Lucky  for  him  it  was  not  so.  There  were  rules  in  that 
prison,  so  degrading,  that  his  mere  loathing  of  them  kept 
him  from  going  mad.  Little  acts  of  discipline  and  punct- 
uality, which,  in  his  sane  mind,  he  would  have  acknowl- 
edged as  necessary,  but  which  now  irritated  him.  He  had 
to  go  to  chapel  in  the  morning ;  he  had  to  come  out  to  the 
door  of  his  cell,  and  touch  his  cap  to  the  governor ;  and 
to  do  other  things  worse  than  this,  little  things,  which  he 
would  not  so  much  have  cared  to  do  when  free;  little 
things  which,  had  he  been  travelling,  in  the  desert  or  the 
bush,  he  would  have  laughed  over,  yet  which  now,  when 
he  was  forced  to  do  them,  degraded  him.  He  did  not 
know,  till  afterwards,  that,  by  powerful  interest,  all  prison 
rules  possible  to  be  relaxed,  had  been  relaxed  in  his  favour. 
He  did  not  know  that  the  honest  martinet  of  a  governor 
249 


Austin  Elliot 

was  in  a  state  of  indignation  about  the  relaxation  of  those 
rules ;  and  held,  very  properly,  that  there  was  no  such 
thing  as  rank  and  influence  in  his  republic.  Austin  did 
not  know  this.  He  did  not  notice,  until  he  came  out  among 
the  other  convicts,  that  he,  of  all  there,  was  the  only  one 
whose  hair  was  uncut,  and  who  wore  his  own  clothes. 
Then  he  began  to  have  a  faint  inkling  that  he  was  being 
treated  leniently,  and  to  think  that  they  had  done  kindly 
by  him,  in  not  yielding  to  his  wish.  For  he  had  asked 
them  the  first  morning,  when  they  made  him  go  to  chapel, 
why  they  would  not  let  him  lie  on  his  bed,  and  die 
quietly. 

It  was  a  long  while  before  he  mixed  with  the  other  con- 
victs there.  The  first  night  he  was  brought  in  he  did  not 
sleep  at  all.  There  was  a  booming  in  his  ears  all  through 
the  short  summer  night,  and  the  power  of  connected 
thought  was  gone. 

At  seven  he  had  dropped  into  a  short  uneasy  slumber  ; 
then  a  great  bell  had  rung,  and  the  warder  had  waked  him 
for  chapel.  He  asked  him  why  he  could  not  let  him  die  in 
peace  }    But  he  must  come  to  chapel. 

So  he  slouched  in  with  a  hot  heavy  head,  and  slouched 
out  again.  At  the  door  he  saw  a  warder,  and  looking  on 
him  with  eyes,  which  though  dull  and  lustreless,  had  a 
momentary  spark  of  ferocity  in  them,  asked  him  where 
the he  was  to  go  next  ? 

"  To  his  cell,"  the  man  said  quietly,  and  not  unkindly. 

Poor  Austin  blundered  on,  he  knew  not  whither,  he 
knew  not  for  how  long.  He  knew  not  where  his  cell  was. 
He  went  on  for,  what  seemed  to  his  fading  intellect,  hours. 
Through  one  long  whitewashed  corridor  after  another  ;  at 
last  there  were  stairs,  and  he  went  down,  down,  holding 
on  by  the  balustrade. 

At  the  end  was  an   open  court  where  many  convicts 

were  washing  themselves  ;   when  they  saw  Austin  they 

began  whistling,  and  jeering  at  him.     He  did  not  mind  it, 

but  stood  blinking  in  the  sunshine,  peering  about  him,  till 

i5:> 


Austin  Elliot 

they  all  stopped  whistling  and  talking,  and  remained  quite 
silent — quite  silent,  poor  wretches;  for  Austin,  as  he 
stood  there  in  the  sunshine,  was  a  strange  sight  to  look 
on.  His  personal  beauty,  always  great,  was  rather  en- 
hanced by  the  fever-flush  on  his  cheek,  and  the  great 
passionate  grey  eyes  were  now,  with  the  pupils  enormously 
dilated,  staring  with  the  fixed  look  of  incipient  delirium. 

Unimaginative  fellows,  these  convicts.  After  a  mo- 
ment's silence,  one  of  them,  as  spokesman,  said,  "  that 
cove's  ill !  "  and  this  so  well  expressed  the  feelings  of  the 
community,  that  they  went  on  washing  themselves,  and 
comparing  notes  about  the  Past  and  the  Future ;  about 
what  had  been  done,  and  what,  please  Heaven,  would  yet 
be  done  (in  their  line  of  business),  leaving  Austin  to  the 
care  of  the  warder. 

Austin  petulantly  appealed  to  him.  "  They  told  me  to 
go  to  my  cell,  but  I  can't  find  it.  They  have  taken  all  my 
money  away,  or  I  would  give  you  five  pounds  to  take  me 
back,  and  put  me  on  my  bed ;  and  I  can't  promise  you 
anything  for  certain,  because  the  Crown  has  a  claim  on  my 
property ;  but  if  you  will  take  me  back  to  my  bed,  I  pledge 
you  my  honour  as  a  gentleman,  that  Miss  Hilton  will  give 
you  five  pounds.  It  is  all  broken  off  between  us  now,  you 
understand  —  and,  perhaps,  she  has  not  used  me  well,  but 
she  will  give  you  that.  I  want  to  lie  down  and  die.  Come, 
now,  I  would  do  it  for  you.  We  are  all  the  same  flesh  and 
blood,  convicts  and  warders,  and  Whigs  and  Tories.  If  I 
had  taken  care,  and  not  broken  God's  laws,  I  might  have 
been  a  warder,  in  time  you  know,  when  I  was  fit  for  it ; 
and  if  you  had  gone  out  with  the  friend  of  your  heart  on 
one  accursed  May  morning,  and  seen  him  tumble  dead  at 
your  feet,  you  might  have  been  a  convict.  If  I  had  been 
warder,  and  you  convict,  and  you  had  come  to  me  with 
your  head  whirling  round,  and  ten  thousand  remorseless 
devils  tearing  at  your  heart,  and  asked  me  to  lead  you  to 
your  cell,  to  die  in  peace,  I  would  have  done  it ;  by  God  I 
would  !    Come,  now  !  " 

251 


Austin  Elliot 

Poor  Austin  !  He  was  near  getting  release  from  all  his 
troubles  for  a  time ;  he  was  in  the  first  stage  of  a  brain- 
fever.  The  warder  quietly  and  kindly  took  him  back  to 
his  cell,  comforting  him  with  such  comfort  as  a  prison- 
warder  has  to  give.  He  never  claimed  five  pounds  from 
Miss  Hilton  or  from  Austin ;  he  never  thought  about  what 
Austin  had  said  any  more.  But  his  kindness  to  poor  de- 
lirious Austin  was  the  best  day's  work  he  ever  did  in  his 
life.  Austin  was  partly  delirious,  and  never  remembered 
one  word  of  what  passed.  The  man  never  told  his  own 
story ;  therefore,  how  came  it,  that  after  all  this  miserable 
business  was  over,  in  happier  times  than  these ;  this  warder 
found  his  private  affairs  inquired  into ;  found  that  the  in- 
quirers had  discovered  that  he,  the  warder,  had  started  in 
life  as  a  farmer,  and  had  incontinently  failed  in  conse- 
quence of  trying  some  of  Mechi's  experiments  without 
Mechi's  money,  and  had  been  bankrupt,  and  glad  to  be 
made  a  warder  at  Millbank  ?  How  was  it  that  this  warder 
found  himself  asked,  as  a  personal  favour,  to  come,  with  a 
salary  of  ;^25o  a  year,  and  superintend  a  certain  model 
farm  on  a  certain  island  .''  Which  splendid  rise  in  life  was 
the  consequence  of  his  kindness  to  Austin  on  this  morn- 
ing. 

Austin  was  delirious,  and  remembered  nothing  of  it. 
He  never  told  his  story.  There  were  none  but  convicts  by. 
One  of  them  must  have  told  his  story  for  him.  Yes,  there 
was  one  convict,  a  very  young  man,  with  a  foolish,  weak 
face,  who  had  come  towards  Austin  the  moment  he  saw 
him  come  into  the  yard,  and  had  watched  him  with  a  look 
of  eager  curiosity,  who  had  heard  it  all.  This  young  con- 
vict was  the  maker  of  that  warder's  fortunes. 


252 


Austin  Elliot 


Chapter  XXXIV 

Austin  got  back  to  his  cell,  and  somewhat  regained  his 
head  in  solitude.  He  lay  on  his  bed  all  day,  and  a  little 
after  dark  the  warder  before  mentioned  came  in,  and  got 
him  to  go  to  bed. 

He  slept  for  a  time,  not,  luckily,  for  very  long.  Then  he 
woke  with  a  feeling  of  horror  upon  him,  a  feeling  that 
something  terrible  was  coming.  He  got  out  of  bed,  and 
felt  for  the  bell. 

Round  and  round  the  room,  from  end  to  end  ;  how  damp 
and  cold  and  strange  the  walls  felt !  —  and  where  the  devil 
was  the  bell-rope  ?  His  servant,  he  knew,  slept  in  the 
room  overhead.  He  was  ill ;  it  would  be  better  to  call  for 
him.  He  called  out,  —  "  Edward  !  Edward  ! "  many  times, 
and  waited  to  hear  the  door  above  open :  but  it  did  not. 
Confound  the  lad !  —  why  should  he  choose  this  night,  of 
all  others,  to  be  out !  He  had  better  feel  his  way  into  bed 
again,  and  wait  till  he  heard  Edward  go  upstairs.  He 
began  feeling  his  way  towards  his  bed  again,  but  he  did 
not  get  to  it.  In  a  moment  the  whole  ghastly  truth  came 
before  him.  For  one  instant  he  remembered  all  that  had 
happened,  and  he  knew  where  he  was.  Then  he  gave  a 
wild  cry,  and  fell  down  on  the  cold  stone  floor  insensible. 

The  warder  heard  him,  and  came  in.  He  got  him  on  to 
his  bed  again,  which  was  a  lucky  thing  for  Austin,  for  if  he 
had  lain  long  insensible  on  the  cold  stone  floor,  in  his  fever, 
he  would  have  died. 

His  fever  was  violent  and  obstinate  ;  he  was  often  deliri- 
ous for  a  day  at  a  time.  He  knew  the  doctor  and  the 
warder  now  and  then.  At  the  end  of  ten  days  he  was  still 
delirious,  but  he  recognised  some  one  who  came  to  see 
him  then. 

Gil  Macdonald,  pondering  about  many  things,  after  the 
last  terrible  famine  winter,  during  which  the  Ronaldsay 
253 


Austin  Elliot 

folk  had  lived  on  rotten  potatoes,  seaweed,  and  limpets ; 
had  gotten  it  into  his  head,  that  he  must,  as  soon  as  he 
could  see  things  a  bit  right,  and  save  money  enough,  go 
south.  South  —  from  his  barren,  mountain  highland  home, 
w^here  mighty  men,  such  as  he,  were  eating  their  hearts  in 
starvation  and  idleness  —  down  to  the  rich  country  of  Eng- 
land, where  there  was  a  career  and  fair  play  for  all ;  where 
a  "  long-leggit  hieland  chiel "  might  find  his  place  among 
these  broad-shouldered,  grey-eyed,  thoughtful  English,  and 
be  welcomed  as  a  friend,  not  as  a  rival.  Gil  had  heard  the 
Mactavish  call  these  men  "  Cockneys,"  by  which  he,  Gil, 
understood,  a  set  of  effeminate  fellows,  enervated  by  living 
in  a  warmer  climate.  But  Gil  was  far  too  true  a  Scotch- 
man to  set  his  watch  by  the  Mactavish's  clock,  or  by  Chris- 
topher North's  clock,  or  by  Professor  Blackie's  clock ;  and 
so  he  had  come  to  the  conclusion,  having  heard  English- 
men, who  had  come  north,  talking  of  England  and  the 
English,  that  they  were  a  very  manly  and  noble  set  of  fel- 
lows ;  and  argued,  that  if  the  English  were  fools,  as  some 
tried  to  make  out,  so  much  the  better  for  him,  who  had  a 
strong  notion  that  he  was  not  a  fool.  If  they  were  the 
fellows  he  thought,  why  then  it  would  be  all  the  better  to 
live  among  them. 

Besides,  Austin  Elliot  was  an  Englishman,  and  lived  in 
England,  and  Austin  Elliot  was  the  one  person  around 
whom  most  of  Gil's  hopes  for  the  future  grouped  them- 
selves. Austin  was  the  most  heroic  and  amiable  person 
he  had  ever  seen,  and  the  memory  of  him  was,  perhaps, 
brighter  in  the  Scotchman's  mind,  than  the  reality.  But 
he  must  first  get  south,  and  see  Austin.  If  Austin  could 
help  him  he  would ;  if  he  could  not,  at  all  events  Gil  would 
see  him  again  —  that  would  be  something.  So  strange  was 
the  admiration  of  this  young  man  for  Austin,  he  being  in 
many  points  —  not  unimportant  ones  —  somewhat  Austin's 
superior. 

One  brilliant  June  morning  he  landed  from  the  Leith 
steamboat,  and  strode  wondering  along  the  streets,  looking 
254 


Austin  Elliot 

at  the  names  over  the  shop-doors  to  see  for  a  Highland 
one.  Having  "  speired  "  of  one  MacAIister,  who  was 
taking  down  his  shutters,  and  whose  personal  appearance 
gave  Gil  the  highest  hopes,  he  did  as  he  was  told ;  he 
walked  "  aye  west  "  for  eight  miles  or  more  toward  Mort- 
lake,  where  Mr.  Elliot  had  lived.  He  found  Stanhope 
House,  and  rang,  waiting  for  an  answer  with  a  beating 
heart. 

Old  Mr.  Elliot,  the  servant  told  him,  had  been  dead 
above  a  year ;  young  Mr.  Elliot  lived  at  such  a  number 
in  Pall  Mall. 

So  Gil,  resting  a  little,  and  taking  a  frugal  meal  at  a 
public-house,  strode  eastward  again,  carefully  asking  his 
way  at  Scotch  shops  only  —  not  that  he  was  distrustful  by 
nature,  but  only  cautious ;  and  it  was  an  unco  muckle  city, 
and  a  stranger  didna  ken.  So  he  asked  his  way  at  the 
Scotch  shops  only. 

Feeling  his  way,  with  many  mistakes,  he  came  at  last  to 
Pall  Mall.  Here  he  made  his  only  non-Scotch  inquiry 
that  day.  Seeing  a  handsome,  goodnatured-looking  young 
dandy,  very  like  Austin,  standing  at  a  corner,  he  took 
courage  to  ask  him  whether  or  no  that  was  Paul  Maul  ? 
The  young  gentleman  answered  civilly  that  it  was  Pell 
Mell.  This  made  poor  Gil  fancy  that  he  had  gone  wrong 
again ;  he  determined  to  trust  none  but  his  fellow-country- 
men for  directions.  He  walked  on  till  he  saw  a  Highland 
name  over  a  shop,  and  went  in  and  asked.  He  was  right 
this  time.  The  house  at  which  he  determined  to  ask  was 
the  very  house  where  Austin  lived :  he  saw  that  by  the 
number.  He  asked  the  landlord,  who  was  in  his  shop, 
unscrewing  the  breech  from  a  rifle,  whether  or  no  Mr. 
Elliot  lived  there  ? 

The  landlord,  hearing  the  dear  old  music  of  his  native 
accent,  took  off  his  spectacles,  and  said  at  a  venture,  in 
Gaelic  — 

"  He  did  live  here,  God  forgive  us ;  but  he  is  fretting 
out  his  brave  heart  in  prison  now,  my  son." 

255 


Austin  Elliot 

Poor  Gil  sat  down.  In  prison.  He  remembered  almost 
the  last  words  they  had  spoken  together  at  Ronaldsay, 
and  he  felt  as  if  the  hand  of  God  had  smote  him. 

"  In  prison  !  " 

"  Aye,  the  weary  day." 

"  I  have  followed  him  all  down  from  Ronaldsay,  all  the 
weary !  weary  way,  and  I  find  him  in  prison  at  the  end. 
Do  you  mean  the  same  man  as  I  ?  Do  you  mean  Mr. 
Austin  Elliot,  the  young  Saxon  lord,  with  the  laughing 
eyes,  that  were  blue  like  Loch  Oil,  and  Loch  na  Craig, 
when  the  wind  sweeps  down  on  them  from  Ben  More  on 
a  June  morning  ?  Have  they  dared  to  tie  up  the  stag  in 
the  byre.^  Have  they  dared  to  put  the  salmon  in  the 
goose-dub  ?  Had  they  dared  to  chain  the  scolding  pere- 
grine on  the  popinjay  perch  ?  " 

Thus,  in  his  anger,  in  furious  Gaelic,  Ossianically  spoke 
poor  Gil.  Alas  !  it  appeared  they  had  dared  to  do  all 
this,  and  that  there  was  no  undoing  of  it  at  any  rate  what- 
ever. His  fellow-countryman  had  him  into  his  parlour, 
and  told  him  all  about  what  had  happened.  And  when 
Gil  had  grown  calmer,  they  had  together  a  regular  good 
Gaelic  palaver,  towards  the  end  of  which  this  astounding 
fact  was  discovered  —  that  Gil's  great-uncle's  second  wife 
was  sister  to  the  Reverend  David  Macpherson,  a  placed 
minister,  who  had  served  Glen  Ramshorn  for  forty  years  ; 
and  that  the  Reverend  David's  third  sister  had  married 
the  gunmaker's  own  uncle's  third  cousin,  an  Aberdeen 
stonemason,  whereby  it  was  as  clear  as  day  that  Gil  was 
the  gunmaker's  nephew.  So  Gil  was  good  for  a  bed  in  Pall 
Mall,  and,  if  need  were,  ten  pound  or  so,  for  the  rest  of 
his  life. 

That  afternoon  Gil  walked  down  to  the  prison,  by  the 
river,  to  see  what  he  could  do  with  regard  to  getting  at 
Austin.  And  there  he  found  Robin,  as  we  saw.  And  when 
he  had  spoken  to  one  or  two  of  the  warders,  he  came  back 
again  to  Pall  Mall,  and  brought  Robin  with  him  ;  and  then, 
taking  off  his  coat  and  baring  his  great  arms,  he  set  to 
256 


Austin  Elliot 

work  and  cleaned  guns,  while  Robin  lay  beside  him,  with 
his  nose  between  his  paws,  and  watched  him  contentedly. 
Long  into  the  night  he  worked,  a  patient,  intelUgent  giant ; 
holding  the  creed,  that  a  man  was  born  to  do  the  work  he 
found  to  his  hand,  and  that  when  the  work  was  done  it 
would  get  paid  for  in  some  form.  And,  next  morning, 
when  the  sleepy  apprentices  came  lumbering  downstairs, 
there  was  Gil  again,  hard  at  it,  having  had  a  few  hours' 
sleep  on  the  sofa,  in  the  parlour,  with  Robin.  A  true 
Scotchman — going  on  their  old  good  plan,  of  showing 
what  they  were  worth  before  they  bargained  for  their 
wages. 

This  appearance  of  Gil  Macdonald  was  very  important 
for  Austin,  or  I  would  not  have  dwelt  on  it.  For,  the  fact 
is  this,  that  Gil  Macdonald  was  the  only  person  who  ever 
went  near  Austin  during  his  imprisonment.  Some  cast 
him  off,  and  some  were  prevented  from  going  near  him  ; 
we  shall  know  who  were  in  the  former,  and  who  in  the 
latter  category  soon.  Meanwhile  Gil  Macdonald  was  the 
one  link  between  Austin  and  the  world  he  had  left. 

The  gunmaker,  Austin's  landlord,  Gil's  kinsman  !  was  a 
west-end  tradesman,  and  knew  intimately  some  very  great 
people.  So,  next  morning,  when  Gil,  after  doing  the  work 
of  ten  men,  proposed,  at  breakfast,  the  utterly  untradesman- 
like  scheme  of  adopting  the  plan  of  the  creature  Donald, 
in  "  Rob  Roy  "  —  to  wit,  getting  himself  made  warder,  let- 
ting Austin  out,  pitching  the  keys  into  the  Thames,  and 
then  —  and  then  —  (that  part  of  the  plan  not  developed 
yet)  ;  at  this  time,  I  say,  the  gunmaker  seeing  that  his 
kinsman's  notion  of  morality  would  not  do  in  such  a 
southern  latitude,  rebuked  him  severely ;  but,  at  the  same 
time,  bethought  himself  of  a  certain  great  man,  a  cus- 
tomer ;  and  coolly  waited  on  that  great  man,  in  his  dress- 
ing-room, for  the  purpose  of  showing  his  lordship  the 
most  beautiful  pair  of  barrels  ever  forged. 

When  he  got  into  the  great  man's  presence,  on  these 
credentialsj  he  but  the  barrels  on  the  ground,  and  coolly 

257 


Austin  Elliot 

told  him,  that  he  had  merely  used  them  as  an  artifice  to 
gain  an  audience  with  his  lordship.  He  then  told,  shortly 
and  quickly  ;  knowing  that  time  was  precious  here,  Gil's 
story ;  and  made  Gil's  request,  that  he  might  be  allowed 
access  to  Austin. 

His  lordship  was  very  much  interested  and  pleased. 
"  By  Gad,  Macpherson,"  he  said,  "  this  is  a  wicked  world. 
They  are  all  leaving  that  poor  fellow  there  to  die  in  his 
desperation.  I  don't  say  anything  about  Edward  Barty  ; 
but  conceive  that  wicked  little  thing  —  that  Miss  Hilton  — 
having  had  the  indecency  to  bolt  abroad,  and  follow  that 
black-leg  bully  Hertford.  It  is  utterly  atrocious.  Your 
request  is  granted  to  the  full.  Let  this  young  fellow  have 
access  to  this  poor  boy.  You  are  a  good  fellow,  Mac- 
pherson, and  this  young  Highlander  must  be  another.  I 
will  write  to  Captain  Somes  at  once.     Good  morning." 

So  Gil  Macdonald  had  the  entree  to  Austin,  and  he  went 
to  see  him  that  afternoon. 

How  did  he  find  his  hero,  his  gallant  young  gentleman, 
the  man  to  whom  he  had  meant  to  come,  asking  humbly 
that  he  might  follow  his  glorious  fortunes  !  He  had  found 
him  at  last. 

Here  he  was,  on  the  narrow  prison-bed,  in  the  half- 
lighted  cell,  in  a  close,  dead  atmosphere,  which  made  poor 
Gil  breathe  hard,  as  though  he  had  been  running.  Here 
he  was,  deserted  by  every  one,  all  his  beauty  gone,  with 
his  great  blue  eyes  staring  in  the  madness  of  his  fever ; 
here  he  was,  delirious  and  alone,  crying  continually  for 
help  night  and  day,  to  those  who  never  answered,  and  who 
never  came. 

But  he  knew  Gil,  and  Gil  said,  "  Thank  God  for  that ! 
He  knew  him  even  in  his  madness,  and  stretched  out  his 
fevered  hands  towards  him,  and  said,  how  long  he  had 
been  coming  ;  but  that  now  he  was  come,  they  would  get 
jiway  together,  to  the  glens  of  Ronaldsay,  and  wander  by 
the  cool  streams,  among  the  green  shadows  of  the  wood 
by  the  waterfalls.  And  they  would  go  together,  up  into 
258 


Austin  Elliot 

the  dark,  cool  caves,  and  watch  the  blue  sea  out  beyond,  in 
the  burning  sun  ;  and  he  would  bathe  in  the  linn,  and  his 
head  would  get  cold  again,  and  then  his  reason  would 
come  back.  But  he  would  never  come  near  the  wicked 
town  any  more.  His  head,  he  told  Gil,  had  got  heated 
with  sitting-up  in  the  gallery  of  the  Commons  so  long,  and 
hearing  the  weary  debates.  But  that  was  all  past  and 
gone  for  ever.  Charles  Barty  was  dead,  and  they  were 
all  dead  but  he  and  Gil ;  and  they,  too,  must  get  away  to 
Ronaldsay,  and  leave  the  hot  streets,  and  the  cruel  lying 
crowds,  that  haunted  clubs  and  such  places,  and  lied  about 
men,  until  they  went  mad.  They  must  get  away  from 
these  into  the  mountains,  and  end  their  days  in  peace." 

Gil  told  all  this  to  the  gunmaker  and  his  wife  that  night, 
over  a  frugal  supper.  It  was  not  told  or  heard  without 
tears.  Those  three  leal  and  trusty  Scotch  bodies  made  a 
compact,  that  though  all  the  world  had  deserted  poor  Aus- 
tin, yet  they  would  stay  by  him  to  the  death.  Then  the 
gunmaker  and  his  wife  went  to  bed,  and  Gil  and  Robin 
went  into  the  shop. 

Gil  cleaned  guns  till  there  were  no  more  to  clean.  Gil 
cleaned  guns,  making  himself  grimy  beyond  conception. 
Then  he  remembered  that  one  of  the  apprentices  had  been 
ordered  to  clean  a  certain  gun-lock,  the  first  thing  to- 
morrow morning.  And  he  got  possession  of  this  lock, 
and  a  certain  book,  and  pored  over  them  both  ;  while  Rob- 
in lay  with  his  nose  on  his  paws,  and  watched  him  with 
bright  clear  eyes.  After  half  an  hour  with  lock  and  book 
before  him,  Gil  began  to  understand  the  difference  between 
main-spring,  sear-spring,  sear,  and  the  rest  of  it,  as  well 
as  he  would  have  done  after  a  wet  morning,  in  the  class- 
room at  Hythe.  Then  he  asked  himself  what  was  the 
matter  with  this  particular  lock?  Then  he  compared  it 
with  a  newly-cleaned  one,  and  came  to  the  conclusion, 
that  the  sear-spring  was  clogged  with  oil.  And  then  at 
twelve  o'clock  he  took  the  work  to  pieces.  This  was  a 
bold  and  remarkable  action,  but  what  is  more  remarkable, 

259 


Austin  Elliot 

before  half-past  one  he  had  cleaned  that  lock,  and  put  it 
together  again  (which  is  not  so  easy  a  matter,  particularly 
when  you  have  no  one  to  show  you  the  difference  between 
the  Bridle  pin  and  the  other  pins).  When  he  had  done 
this,  he  felt  proud,  and  almost  happy,  in  spite  of  his  poor 
hero,  who  was  raving  there  in  his  prison  cell. 

Almost  happy ;  nay,  possibly  quite,  for  this  reason.  Gil 
had  the  great  want  of  his  heart,  the  great  craving  of  his 
whole  life,  satisfied  at  last.  He  hardly  knew  it.  He  knew 
only  this,  that  in  Ronaldsay,  he  had  always  felt,  that  he 
was  a  man  lost,  and  thrown  away,  a  man  capable  of  he 
knew  not  what,  and  without  means  of  finding  out.  Now 
he  found  that  this  gunsmith's  work,  little  as  he  knew  of  it, 
little  as  he  had  done  of  it,  was  in  some  way  filling  up  a 
void  in  his  heart.  The  fact  was,  that  Gil,  for  the  first  time 
in  his  life,  had  got  to  work,  and  he  was  as  satisfied  over 
it  as  is  a  dog  when  he  gnaws  a  bone.  The  feeling  of  an 
Englishman,  a  Scotchman,  and  one  kind  of  Irishman,  over 
his  work,  is  similar  to  that  of  a  Turk  over  his  pipe.  It  is 
a  sedative.  But  in  the  one  case,  the  results  contribute 
more  towards  human  well-being  than  in  the  other. 

In  spite  of  his  late  night  over  the  work,  Gil  was  tinker- 
ing in  the  shop  before  the  two  apprentices  came  sleepily 
squabbling  down  stairs.  He  went  to  Austin  again  that 
day.  but  Austin  was  as  bad  as  ever,  and  was  as  bad  as  ever 
for  many  days.  Still  Gil  was  always  with  him.  Gil  grew 
grimier  and  smelt  stronger  of  train-oil  as  time  went  on, 
until  the  brave  young  kilted  Highlander  had  grown  into  a 
smudgy  gunsmith  in  a  leather  apron;  all  the  romantic 
beauty  of  his  personal  appearance  gone  clean  away  to  the 
free  winds  of  heaven.  Sad  degradation  indeed  I  That  he, 
the  untamed  stag  of  the  mountain,  should  condescend  to 
this !  That  Gil,  the  idle  Highlander,  should  develop  into 
Gil  the  sage  shrewd  diligent  young  smith !  Worse  still, 
that  our  taste  should  be  so  depraved,  as  to  make  us  admire 
him  the  more,  the  more  eager,  diligent,  and  grimier  he 
grew. 

260 


Austin  Elliot 

There  came  a  morning,  when  the  warders  reported  to 
Gil,  on  his  visiting  the  prison,  that  Austin  was  better,  and 
had  gone  to  sleep.  He  waited  till  he  woke,  and  then 
Austin's  reason  had  returned,  and  he  knew  Gil  in  reality  ; 
not  as  he  had  in  his  fever,  as  only  one  of  the  figures  in  the 
perpetual  shadow-dance  which  went  on  before  his  eyes,  in 
which  Gil's  figure  was  only  a  little  more  real  than  the 
others.  In  a  week  from  this  time  he  was  convalescent, 
and  then  they  began  to  consult. 

The  first  thing  done  was  this  :  —  Austin  wrote  to  his 
attorney,  Mr.  Compton,  asking  him  whether  or  no  the 
Crown  had  made  any  claim  on  his  property.  He  wrote  a 
very  cold,  stiff  note,  for  he  was  indignant.  The  old  man 
had  never  come  near  him  in  his  illness.  His  note  was 
answered  by  the  old  man's  junior  partner,  Mr.  Brogden. 
It  appeared  that  the  anxiety  and  worry  caused  by  Austin's 
trial  and  conviction,  had  ended  by  Mr.  Compton's  being 
laid  up  by  a  very  serious  attack  of  illness.  Mr.  Brogden 
proceeded  to  tell  Austin  that  the  Crown  had  made  no  claim 
on  his  property,  and  would  certainly,  he  believed,  make 
none,  provided  Mr.  Elliot  remained  perfectly  quiet,  and 
let  the  whole  matter  slip  by.  It  would  be  better  for  Mr. 
Elliot  not  to  communicate  with  their  office  any  more  till 
better  times.  Clerks  would  talk.  Some  of  the  newspa- 
pers had  been  troublesome  over  his  case.  The  new  secre- 
tary was  very  well  disposed  to  Mr.  Elliot,  but  they  must 
be  quiet.     Mr.  Elliot  might  trust  them,  and  — 

"  The  new  secretary !  "  bounced  out  Austin.  "  Is  Peel 
out  then  ?  Good  heavens !  Surely  the  Lords  have  not 
dared!    But  what  does  it  matter  to  me  .^  " 

Gil  felt  horribly  guilty.  The  fact  was,  that  he  had  been 
so  busy  with  his  guns,  that  he  did  not  actually  know 
whether  Peel  was  in  or  out.  He  felt  very  foolish,  and 
spoke  of  other  things.  But  that  night,  when  he  went 
home,  he  made  his  kinsman  prime  him  with  the  details  of 
the  great  Corn-law  storm,  which  had  passed  so  high  over 
his  head,  without  moving  his  hair ;  and  next  day  was  en- 
261 


Austin  Elliot 

abled  to  tell  Austin  that  the  Lords  had  not  dared  ;  that 
the  Bill  was  law ;  and  that  Sir  Robert  had  come  to  grief 
over  the  Irish  Arms  Bill.  He  was  so  busy  over  his  gun- 
cleaning  business,  that  he  had  not  time  to  ask  what  Irish 
arms  were.  If  he  had  been  made  to  say  what  his  notion 
of  the  Irish  Arms  Bill  was,  he  would  probably  have 
thought  that  it  was  the  account  rendered  to  Parliament, 
for  certain  casualties  at  Donnybrook  Fair.  After  this  he 
informed  himself  about  politics,  but  on  this  occasion  he 
was  relieved,  when  Austin  said  to  him  — 

"  Gil,  never  let  you  and  I  speak  of  these  things  again. 
My  imprisonment  here  renders  me  politically  dead.  I  can- 
not tell  you,  because  I  have  no  strength  to  tell  you,  how 
hideous  my  silly  boy's  dream,  of  succeeding  in  politics, 
without  one  single  qualification,  seems  to  me  now.  The 
Corn-bill  has  passed,  and  has  crushed  me  under  its  wheels 
in  passing.  Let  us  talk  no  more  of  these  things.  I  have 
to  begin  life  again  ;  I  will,  God  help  me,  begin  it  in  an- 
other spirit." 

It  was  all  very  well  for  Austin  to  talk  like  this  to  Gil, 
but  it  had  not  very  much  effect  on  him.  Austin's  sad  ex- 
ample was  no  use  to  Gil.  His  kinsman  was  a  politician  ; 
and  after  his  first  inquiries  into  politics  for  Austin's  sake, 
he  began  making  more  for  his  own.  He  began  to  take  a 
strong  interest  in  the  matter,  and  in  a  month  could  give 
his  opinion,  and  defend  it.  His  frame  of  mind  at  the  end 
of  a  month  was  Radical. 

Gil's  next  enterprise,  on  Austin's  behalf,  was  to  go  se- 
cretly to  Wilton  Crescent,  and  to  find  out  where  Miss  Hil- 
ton was,  and  what  she  was  doing.  This  was  to  be  a  very 
secret  expedition  indeed.  Gil  performed  it  with  all  his 
Scotch  caution.  But  his  caution  was  unnecessary.  He, 
knowing  nothing,  bluntly  brought  back  this  intelligence  — 
that  Miss  Hilton,  with  her  aunt,  her  butler,  and  the  rest  of 
her  household,  had  started  for  the  Continent,  the  day  after 
the  duel.  There  was  no  one  in  the  house  but  a  char- 
woman. 

26a 


Austin  Elliot 

Then  Austin  turned  his  face  to  the  wall.  This  was  the 
hardest  of  all.  She  had  deserted  him  then  !  He  could  for- 
give Lord  Edward  Barty  —  nay,  he  would  dread  to  see 
him.  He  could  forgive  his  father's  old  friends  ;  they  had 
never  liked  him  since  he  had  turned  Radical.  But  for  her 
to  have  deserted  him,  and  thrown  herself  into  the  arms  of 
that  dog  Hertford  !     Ah  !  this  was  very,  very  bitter  ! 

That  she,  who  could  make  those  religious  pilgrimages, 
to  such  strange  places  in  such  strange  company,  could  not 
have  come  to  see  him  or  to  ask  after  him  in  his  misery ! 
If  she  had  only  sent  old  James  !  Could  she  have  known 
that  he  distrusted  her  after  that  morning  —  that  miserable 
morning  before  the  last  debate,  when  he  had  seen  her  in 
company  with  Hertford  .'*  Could  she  have  known  of  the 
cruel  words  he  spoke  of  her  to  Lord  Charles  Barty  }  If 
she  knew  these  things,  it  might  account  for  her  neglect. 
She  might  be  angry  with  him ;  she  might  have  gone 
abroad  in  a  pique. 

No,  no  !  she  cotcld  not  have  known  it.  She  must  be  false, 
false  !  She  must  be  falser  than  it  is  possible  to  conceive. 
And  he,  poor  fool !  loved  her  more  than  ever  —  loved,  that 
is  to  say,  the  quiet,  calm  little  woman  who  used  to  sit  with 
folded  hands  in  church  —  loved  her,  in  fact,  as  she  used  to 
be  —  the  old,  quiet,  patient  Eleanor,  who  existed  no  longer. 

He  did  not  love  her  as  she  was  now,  then.  Ah,  yes ! 
that  was  the  bitterest  part  of  it.  Fallen,  base  as  she  was, 
he  loved  her  more  than  ever.  It  was  well  that  he  should 
turn  his  face  to  the  wall. 

I  have  shown  you,  with  most  inexorable  justice,  all  the 
worst  points  in  his  character.  Most  of  them  —  such  as 
his  flippancy,  his  want  of  earnestness,  and  other  faults  of 
this  class,  which  he  shared  with  many  young  men  —  were 
faults  of  education.  These  died  a  natural  death,  the  mo- 
ment the  prison-gate  slammed  behind  him,  and  he  was 
brought  face  to  face  with  reality.  But  his  worst  fault  — 
a  certain  jealous  pride,  showing  itself  outwardly  in  almost 
hysterical  anger  —  remained  there  yet.  And  now,  before 
263 


Austin  Elliot 

he  rose  from  his  narrow  prison-bed,  he  saw  that  it  was 
there,  and  set  to  work  to  conquer  it. 

He  thought  over  his  life,  and  he  saw  that  fault  staring 
out  on  two  or  three  occasions,  in  a  very  ugly  manner. 
He  remembered  Miss  Cecil,  and  his  furious  anger  at  every- 
thing in  heaven  and  earth,  when  he  found  out  that  she  was 
to  marry  Lord  Mewstone.  He  blushed  at  this,  and  tried 
to  forget  it,  but  could  not. 

Then  he  began  thinking  of  the  poor  fellow  who  was 
dead,  of  poor  Lord  Charles.  How  often  had  he  half 
quarrelled  with  him  at  school,  when  he  had  been  jealous, 
because  the  dead  man  had  been  friendly  with  some  other 
boy,  and  Austin  had  fancied  himself  neglected.  How 
often,  later  than  this,  had  he  been  fractious  and  rude  with 
him,  merely  because  their  social  positions  were  so  differ- 
ent, and  because  he,  Austin,  was  afraid  of  being  called  a 
tuft-hunter.  He  remembered  now  five  hundred  things 
which  he  had  said  to  his  friend  who  was  gone,  which  he 
would  have  given  the  world  to  recall,  but  which  could 
never  be  recalled. 

Again  :  had  he  done  his  duty  by  that  poor,  dead  brother 
of  Eleanor's,  at  Eton  ?  No,  he  had  not.  He  had  been 
too  much  ashamed  of  him.  He  had  been  angry  and  in- 
dignant at  that  boy's  very  existence.  That  he  and  Lord 
Charles,  with  their  sublime,  high  and  mighty  boy-aspira- 
tions, should  have  a  boy  given  to  thieving  forced  on  their 
company :  it  had  been  intolerable.  Now  that  he  was  in 
prison  himself,  he  thought  that,  perhaps,  a  little  more 
genial  kindness,  a  little  less  high-handed  patronage,  might 
have  saved  that  boy.     But  it  was  too  late. 

Lastly,  he  began  thinking  about  Eleanor  herself.  The 
old  Adam  was  a  little  too  strong  for  him  here,  yet.  For 
he  had  trusted  her,  as  woman  was  never  trusted  before. 
He  had  let  her  go  those  mysterious  pilgrimages  of  hers, 
down  into  this  very  Millbank  quarter,  dressed  in  her 
maid's  clothes,  and  asked  no  questions.  And  at  last  he 
had  found  her  walking  arm  in  arm,  in  the  lowest  part  of 
264 


Austin  Elliot 

the  town,  with  the  accursed  Hertford.    He  could  not  ac- 
cuse himself  here.     Not  yet. 

And  now  she  had  deserted  him  in  his  trouble,  and  gone 
abroad  after  that  man  — 

Still  he  recognised  the  fact  that,  all  through  his  life,  there 
had  been  a  tendency  to  jealousy  and  suspicion,  and  he  de- 
termined, even  now,  that  if  Eleanor  could  ever  clear  her- 
self to  him,  that  he  would  forgive  her,  would  tell  her  so.. 
and  part  with  her  for  ever.  But  still,  could  she  clear  her- 
self ten  times  over,  his  duty  was  evident.  He  would  never 
link  his  ruined  fortunes  to  hers.  If  she  had  been  penniless, 
it  would  have  been  a  different  matter.  But  as  it  was,  it 
was  perfectly  clear  it  would  be  dishonourable,  after  what 
had  happened,  to  renew  his  intercourse  with  her.  The 
world  would  never  hold  him  blameless  if  he  did. 

The  end  of  poor  Austin's  illness  was  also  the  culminat- 
ing point  of  his  misfortunes ;  after  this,  his  affairs  began 
to  mend  —  very,  very  slowly,  but  still  to  mend.  When  he 
rose  from  his  sick-bed,  and  began  to  walk  about  his  prison, 
there  were  still  nine  months  of  confinement  before  him. 
They  were  weary  months  to  look  forward  to,  but  he  felt  he 
could  get  through  them  without  maddening  himself,  now 
that  Gil  Macdonald  was  coming  to  see  him  almost  daily. 
In  his  present  state  of  weakness  and  depression,  he  tried 
to  think,  tried  to  hope,  that,  by  mere  patience,  he  might 
live  on  till  things  came  right  again.  One  thing  only  now 
was  unendurable.  Poor  Eleanor  was  abroad,  alone  and 
unprotected,  in  the  power  of  Captain  Hertford  and  her 
aunt.  That  was  maddening  to  think  of.  Badly  as  she 
had  treated  him,  something  must  be  done  there.  He 
thought  the  matter  over  as  well  as  he  was  able.  There 
seemed  only  one  hope.  He  got  leave  from  the  governor, 
and  wrote  the  following  letter  to  Lord  Edward  Barty. 

"My  Lord, 
"  I  know  that  we  can  never  meet  again  as  friends  on 
this  side  of  the  grave.     I  know  the  horror  and  detestation 
.265 


Austin  Elliot 

in  which  you  must  hold  my  name,  -Iter  the  late  catastrophe. 
But  I  beg  you,  in  God's  name,  to  listen  to  what  I  have  to  say. 

"  You  used  to  love  Eleanor  Hilton.  She  is  gone  abroad 
unprotected.  Her  aunt  has  taken  her  away  into  a  foreign 
country,  where  she  will  be  in  the  power  of  the  man  who 
has  caused  all  this  misery,  and  his  disreputable  compan- 
ions. 

"  Now  I  ask  you,  who  have  so  often  knelt  and  prayed 
by  her  side,  whether  you  will  stand  by  and  let  this  go  on. 
If  you  have  a  grain  of  chivalry  in  your  composition, 
Edward,  you  cannot,  you  dare  not.  I  swear  to  you,  Ed- 
ward, deeply  as  I  love  you,  if  you,  knowing  what  you 
know,  stand  by  and  do  nothing,  that  I  will  cast  you  off 
with  the  same  loathing  and  contempt,  which  you  now  feel 
for  me.  Eddy !  Eddy  !  for  the  sake  of  the  love  we  once 
bore  to  one  another,  you  will  save  her. 

"  I  remain,  my  Lord, 
"  Your  Lordship's  obedient  servant, 

"  Austin  Elliot." 

Gil  had  instructions  to  take  this  letter  to  Cheshire  House, 
and  to  put  it  into  Lord  Edward's  own  hands,  and  get  an 
answer.  Admiral  Villeneuve  had  instruction  to  form  a 
junction  with  the  fleet  of  Admiral  Gravina,  and  to  pound 
and  blast  the  British  fleet  from  off  the  face  of  the  waters. 
Neither  Gil  Macdonald  nor  Admiral  Villeneuve  were  suc- 
cessful, and  they  both  had  strong  doubts  of  their  success 
before  they  began  to  execute  their  orders. 

When  Gil  (having  got  off  as  much  of  his  grimness  as 
was  possible)  reconnoitred  Cheshire  House,  his  heart  sank 
within  him.  The  house  stood  a  long  way  back  from  the 
street,  and  was  fronted  by  a  high  wall,  in  which  were  two 
carriage-gates.  In  one  of  these  gates  was  a  wicket ;  and 
Gil,  after  a  quarter-of-an-hour's  watching,  became  aware, 
that  this  wall  and  gate  were  the  outworks  of  the  place,  and 
must  be  carried,  either  by  stratagem  or  force,  before  he 
could  hope  to  do  his  errand. 

266 


Austin  Elliot 

He  saw  a  great  many  people  come  and  ring  the  bell. 
Most  of  the  people  who  brought  letters  had  them  taken  by 
the  porter,  and  had  the  door  shut  in  their  faces.  This 
would  not  do.  Austin  had  told  him  to  put  his  letter  into 
Lord  Edward's  hand,  and  get  an  answer. 

At  last  he  opened  his  first  parallel.  He  rang  the  bell, 
and  asked  to  see  Lord  Edward.  The  porter  answered 
civilly,  but  shortly,  "  Out  of  town  ;  "  and  Gil  retired  and 
leaned  against  a  lamp-post. 

The  thing  had  to  be  done,  and  must  be  done  somehow. 
Gil  only  knew  this  much  :  that  this  was  the  house  of  poor 
Lord  Charles's  father ;  that  the  mention  of  Austin's  name 
might  not  be  a  good  passport  there,  and  that  he  must  be 
cautious.  He  was  very  much  puzzled.  If  Austin  had 
sent  any  one  but  a  very  cunning  Scot,  his  mission  might 
have  failed  altogether.  But  Gil,  with  his  patient  vulpine 
cunning,  succeeded  better  probably  than  an  Englishman 
or  Irishman  would  have  done.  He  had  waited  some  time, 
and  was  thinking  of  doing  all  sorts  of  things,  when  the 
wicket  was  opened,  and  a  fine  boy  of  about  sixteen,  in 
deep  mourning,  came  out,  and  walked  away  slowly  along 
the  street.     Gil  had  heard  the  porter  call  him,  "  My  Lord." 

Gil  instantly  gave  chase,  and  overtook  this  lad. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  young  sir,  ye're  no  Lord  Edward 
Barty,  I'm  thinking  }  " 

"  No ;  my  name  is  George  Barty.  My  brother  Edward 
is  abroad.     Can  I  do  anything  for  you  ?  " 

Gil  paused  an  instant ;  but  when  he  looked  again  into 
the  honest  face  of  the  lad  he  took  his  resolution. 

"  Yes,  young  sir  —  I  mean  my  lord —  ye're  a  lord,  are 
ye  no  }  Open  this  letter,  and  gie  me  the  answer  to  take 
back  wie  me  ;  for  he  loves  you  and  yours,  dearer  than  his 
heart's  bluid,  after  all  done." 

The  boy  opened  the  letter,  and  read  it.     He  gave  no 
answer  at  first ;  he  bit  his  lips  hard,  and  tried  not,  but  the 
tears  would  come.     Gil  walked  a  little  way  off,  and  looked 
at  the  sparrows  upon  the  house-top. 
267 


Austin  Elliot 

At  last  the  boy  came  after  him,  and  touched  his  arm, 
and  said : 

"  Do  you  see  Mr.  Elliot  ever  ?  " 

"  Nigh  every  day." 

"  Are  you  in  his  confidence  ?  " 

"  I  should  be.  I  am  only  a  poor  highland  lad.  But 
when  ye,  all  of  ye,  left  him  to  rot  in  his  prison,  I  was  the 
only  one  faithful  to  him." 

"  You  are  wrong,"  said  the  boy  eagerly.  "  Others  are 
faithful  to  him.  I  am  faithful  to  him.  Edward  is  as  true 
as  steel  to  him.  We  know  how  blameless  he  was  in  the 
matter.  We  know  that  he  followed  this  man  abroad  and 
got  wounded.  Take  this  letter  back  to  him,  and  tell  him 
to  burn  it.  Tell  him  that  Edward  followed  Miss  Hilton 
abroad  instantly,  and  has  been  with  her  ever  since.  They 
are  at  Ems  now.  She  is  in  trouble  about  her  aunt ;  but 
don't  tell  him  this.     How  is  he  ?     How  does  he  bear  it  ?  " 

"  He  has  been  at  death's  door,  and  no  one  nigh  him." 

"  Poor  fellow !  Give  him  my  love  —  George  Barty's 
love ;  and  say,  we  have  not  forgotten  him." 

Gil  came  back  and  reported  all  this.  Austin  was  glad 
that  Lord  Edward  was  with  her.  That  was  very  good 
news.  So  Lord  Edward  was  as  true  as  steel  to  him,  was 
he  ?  Perhaps.  But  he  might  have  written  a  line  to  say 
so.     As  true  as  steel,  hey  ? 

"  God  forgive  him ! "  he  said,  the  next  moment.  "  When 
did  Lord  Edward  ever  write  letters,  blind  as  he  was  from 
infancy.  He  cou/a  write  in  a  way,  so  Austin  had  heard  ; 
but  since  Austin  had  known  him,  he  had  always  dictated 
his  letters  to  his  valet.  He  would  cast  this  miserable 
jealousy  out  of  his  heart  once  and  for  all.  Edward  Barty 
tuas  true  to  him  ;  his  delicacy  had  only  prevented  his 
writing.  It  was  easy  to  find  excuses  for  a  blind  man ; 
but  who  could  find  excuses  for  Eleanor  ?  Why  had  she 
not  written  ?  Not  one  line  ;  not  one  short  word  to  say 
that  she  had  thrown  him  off.  His  anger  against  her  in- 
creased day  by  day  ;  but,  alas,  his  love  for  her  grew  none 
263 


Austin  Elliot 

the  less.  He  loved  an  eidolon  —  an  Eleanor  who  never 
had  been,  except  in  his  own  fancy  —  a  true,  faithful,  pa- 
tient little  being,  who  always  sat  with  folded  hands,  whose 
face  never  grew  animated,  save  when  he  was  present. 
He  had  loved  such  an  one,  but  she  had  never  existed. 
Eleanor  Hilton  who  lived,  was  false  and  cruel.  Not  one 
line  all  these  three  weary  months.  How  wicked  these 
women  could  be  at  times ! 

Poor  Austin's  resolution  to  uproot  from  his  heart  his 
fatal  error  of  causeless  jealousy,  seemed  to  hold  well 
enough,  until  he  began  to  think  about  Eleanor ;  about  the 
very  person  whom  he  loved  best  in  the  world,  and  whom, 
if  he  had  only  known  it,  he  had  best  cause  to  trust  —  the 
one  who  had  suffered  more  on  his  behalf  than  any  one 
else  who  cared  for  him.  It  was  natural  possibly,  that  he 
should  be  most  jealous  about  the  one  he  loved  best,  but 
it  was  very  hard  upon  Eleanor. 

She  had  written  to  him  again  and  again,  letters  full  of 
wild  love,  tenderness,  and  comfort.  Lord  Edward  Barty 
had  dictated  several  notes  to  him  also,  and  inclosed  them 
in  hers.  They  had  left  them  to  go  to  post  with  the  other 
letters. 

But  Aunt  Maria's  maid,  acting  under  orders,  had 
brought  them  all  to  her  mistress,  who  had  read  them,  and 
then  put  them  all  into  the  fire. 

Eleanor's  troubles  began  to  get  more  heavy  to  bear  than 
Austin's;  Austin's  silence  aggravated  them  very  much, 
she  did  not  know  what  to  think.  Was  he  desperate,  un- 
der his  terrible  misfortune,  or  did  he  know  of  her  secret  ? 
He  was  in  Millbank  prison  himself  ;  could  he  know  ?  She 
told  Lord  Edward  everything.  He  advised  her  to  say 
nothing ;  he  was  getting  angry  ;  Austin  ought  to  have 
written. 

At  this  time  Lord  Edward  received  the  following  let- 
ter:— 

"  Dear  Brother, 

•*  I  met  a  big  fellow,  an  awful  big  fellow,  as  big  as  old 
269 


Austin  Elliot 

Hoskins,  but  not  so  fat,  in  the  square  yesterday.  He 
spoke  like  an  Irishman,  and  said  that  Austin  was  anxious 
for  you  to  take  care  of  Miss  Hilton.  I  said  you  were  do- 
ing so.  He  said  that  Austin  had  been  dying,  but  was 
well  again,  and  that  every  one  had  deserted  him. 

"  Florence  has  shoved  the  mignonet-box  out  of  the 
school-room  window,  and  broke  the  geraniums  in  the 
drawing-room  balcony,  and  has  caught  it.  Jim  was  sit- 
ting on  the  edge  of  his  tub,  kicking  nurse,  and  the  tub 
turned  over  him,  and  the  water  has  gone  down  and  spoilt 
the  library  ceiling.  He  caught  it  too,  but  not  so  bad  as 
Florence.  The  houses  are  up,  and  we  leave  town  to-mor- 
row. 

"  Your  affectionate  brother, 

"George  Barty." 

On  the  receipt  of  this  they  wrote  to  Austin  again,  but 
again  Aunt  Maria's  maid  was  terrified  into  stealing  the 
letter,  and  again  Aunt  Maria  put  it  into  the  fire.  What 
old  James  was  doing  at  this  time  we  shall  see  directly. 
But  the  effect  of  this  wicked  old  woman's  plot  was  this, 
that  Austin  thought  they  had  both  utterly  deserted  him  ; 
that  he  thought  that  Eleanor,  at  least,  should  have  written 
to  him  ;  and  that  he  was  very  angry,  and  very  jealous. 


Chapter  XXXV 

Austin  had  never  been  moved  into  the  hospital ;  the 
doctor  preferred  dealing  with  him  where  he  was.  After  a 
time  he  began  to  get  better,  and  was  able  to  walk  about. 

At  first  he  always  waited  for  Gil  Macdonald,  and  took 
his  arm  for  a  turn  up  and  down  the  long  corridor,  and 
then  lay  down  again  ;  but  after  a  time  he  felt  the  want  of 
more  exercise,  and  used  to  rise  and  walk  out  by  himself. 
At  first,  when  he  began  to  do  this  he  would  wait  till  the 
270 


Austin  Elliot 

long  corridor  was  empty,  and  then  come  out,  and  begin 
his  solitary  walk.  To  show  how  villanously  penal  sen- 
tences are  carried  out  in  certain  cases,  I  may  mention, 
that  when  Austin  began  to  recover,  the  governor  called  on 
him  every  day  (under  protest) ;  and  that  if  Austin,  in  his 
solitary  walk,  wanted  the  support  of  a  warder's  arm,  it 
was  his  own  fault  if  he  did  not  have  it.  He  was  their 
Picciola  —  their  "  poor  little  thing  "  —  their  prison-flow- 
er !  —  the  only  innocent  man  among  nine  hundred.  What 
wonder  that  they  (officially)  petted  him.>  Poor,  hand- 
some, patient,  innocent  young  gentleman  !  Yes !  they 
grew  very  fond  of  Austin  —  they  were  just  like  every  one 
else. 

But  after  a  time  Austin  began  to  feel  the  want  of  new 
faces,  although  those  faces  were  those  of  convicts.  One 
night,  when  he  was  getting  strong,  he  lay  on  his  bed  and 
thought,  and  a  strange  thought  came  into  his  head.  This 
thought  put  itself  into  many  forms  before  it  came  to  this. 
—  Could  not  he,  Austin,  do  some  good,  infinitesimal  it 
might  be,  if  he  mixed  with  the  other  convicts  ?  In  the 
eye  of  the  law  he  was  no  better  than  the  worst  of  them, 
but  he  was  still  higher  than  the  highest  of  them.  Surely 
he  might  do  some  good. 

"  By  merely  mixing  with  them,  and  talking  to  them,  we 
might  raise  their  moral  tone,"  thought  he.  Speaking  to 
them  of  higher  things  would  —  must  —  do  them  some 
good.  One  does  not  like  to  say  that  he  was  wrong  ;  but 
still  it  becomes  apparent  that  he  had  not  acquired  what  we 
may  call  the  Australian  instinct  —  that  is  to  say,  did  not 
know  a  convict  or  jail  bird  when  he  saw  him  ;  did  not  rec- 
ognise the  class  of  man  as  a  distinct  one  ;  did  not  per- 
ceive the  extraordinary  difference  in  appearance,  between 
an  honest  man  under  a  cloud,  and  a  rogue.  In  fact,  I  am 
sorry  to  say,  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  might  raise 
the  moral  tone  of  the  convicts  around  him  by  talking  to 
them  on  an  empty  stomach. 

He  determined  to  go  out  into  the  yard  and  talk  to  them ; 
271 


Austin  Elliot 

but  he  was  still  weak,  and  a  little  nervous ;  and  so,  putting 
it  off  from  day  to  day,  he  contented  himself  by  walking 
up  and  down  the  corridor  in  front  of  his  cell. 

One  day  there  was  a  fracas  there ;  it  was  only  a  few 
days  after  he  was  able  to  walk  up  and  down  alone.  It 
was  not  a  very  great  riot ;  it  was  a  loud  dispute  between 
a  warder,  and  a  tall  young  man  in  a  convict  dress.  Aus- 
tin, weak  as  he  was,  walked  down  to  see  if  he  could  assist 
the  warder.  He  found  him  in  high  dispute  with  the  con- 
vict, and  in  the  convict,  he  recognised  the  young  man  who 
had  looked  at  him  so  eagerly,  the  morning  after  he  had 
been  brought  to  prison. 

And  as  Austin  looked  on  the  young  man,  he  had  sense 
to  see  that  he  was  not  quite  recovered  from  his  fever ;  that 
his  brain  had  not  quite  got  the  better  of  the  delirium  yet. 
However,  he  was  far  too  sensible  a  fellow  to  be  deluded 
by  any  mad  fancies.  "  If  a  lunatic,"  he  said  to  himself, 
"  only  knows  that  he  is  mad,  and  can  keep  that  faith  in 
his  head  sufficiently  long,  he  may  defy  all  the  Masters  in 
Lunacy  put  together."  Austin  knew  that,  probably,  his 
brain  was  not  quite  right,  and  so  he  banished  a  certain 
idiotic  fancy  from  his  mind  indignantly.  He  banished  his 
first  mad  fancy,  and  took  a  practical  view  of  things.  Here 
was  a  young  convict  in  high  dispute  with  a  warder.  He 
would  intercede  for  this  young  convict ;  would  get  hold  of 
this  young  convict,  and  talk  to  him  about  Shakespeare  and 
the  musical  glasses,  until  all  the  other  convicts  should 
come  and  listen  with  this  one.  And  so  Austin  would 
elevate  the  moral  tone  of  all  of  them,  until  they  should 
become  penetrated  with  an  abstract  love  of  virtue  (for 
Austin,  in  his  political  creed,  ignored  the  religious  element), 
and  so  they  should  all  become  reformed  ;  which  meant, 
although  he  did  not  know  it,  that  all  their  foreheads  should 
become  broader  and  higher ;  their  eyes  should  look  straight 
at  another  man's  ;  and  they  should  give  over  fiddling  with 
their  buttons,  when  they  spoke  to  an  honest  man. 

It  appeared  that  the  dispute  with  this  convict  and  the 
272 


Austin  Elliot 

warder  was  rather  a  strange  one.  The  young  man  had 
been  coming  up  to  speak  to  Austin,  when  the  warder,  too 
zealous  in  Austin's  cause,  had  turned  him  back.  Austin 
thanked  the  warder  for  his  kindness,  and  allowed  the 
young  convict  to  speak  to  him. 

The  young  man  spoke  first.  "  Your  name  is  Elliot  ?  " 
he  said. 

Austin  said  "  Yes." 

"  I  knew  that  the  first  moment  I  saw  you  —  that  morning 
when  you  came  out  in  the  yard  among  the  rest  of  us.  I 
had  not  seen  you  for  a  long  while,  but  I  felt  sure  it  was  you.'* 

"  Then  you  have  seen  me  before  ?  "  said  Austin. 

"  Ah  yes,  often." 

"  What  is  your  name  now,"  said  Austin,  "  and  where 
have  you  seen  me  ?  " 

"  Then  you  do  not  remember  me  ?  '* 

"  No,"  said  Austin.  "  I  had  a  silly  fancy  about  you  just 
now  ;  but  I  don't  remember  you.  If  you  have  known  me, 
tell  me  where  ?  " 

"  I  knew  you  when  you  were  at  Eton.  Do  you  re- 
member Tolliday's  boy,  Jim  Charlton  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  I  am  that  boy." 

"  Indeed  you  are  nothing  of  the  kind,"  said  Austin. 
"Jim  was  a  light-headed  boy,  your  hair  is  black.  What 
is  the  good  of  lying  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know ;  no  one  speaks  the  truth  here.  I  re- 
member you,  though.  You  were  always  kind  enough  to 
me  ;  you  used  always  to  be  with  a  young  swell  there,  Lord 
Charles  Barty.  How  I  hated  that  boy.  What  has  be- 
come of  him  ?  " 

"  D n  you,"  said  Austin,  "  you  had  better  take  care." 

As  he  turned  fiercely  on  the  man,  he  saw  nothing  but  a 
look  of  puzzled  curiosity ;  his  wrath  was  stayed  at  once ; 
and  when  he  had  looked  at  the  young  man's  face  for  an 
instant,  he  considered  whether  or  no  he  was  going  mad 
again. 


Austin  Elliot 

"  Don't  get  in  a  rage,  Austin  Elliot,"  said  Charlton. 
"  What  has  become  of  that  cursed  young  prig  ?  " 

"  Dead  —  shot  in  a  duel.  I  was  his  second,  and  am  here 
for  it.     Will  you  hold  your  tongue  ?  " 

"  Yes,  directly.  One  question  more.  What  has  become 
of  that  other  fellow  who  was  always  with  you  and  Lord 
Charles  —  Robert  Hilton  }  " 

"  He  is  dead  ;  he  died  three  years  ago  at  Namur,"  said 
Austin. 

"  May  the  devil  take  him,"  said  Charlton.  *'  I  shall  be 
out  of  this  in  six  months,  and  I  was  depending  on  him. 
I  know  enough  about  him  to  bring  me  in  a  tidy  income. 
So  he  is  dead.  Well,  no  loss,  except  to  me.  He  was  a 
worthless  young  scoundrel." 

"  He  was  nothing  of  the  kind,"  said  Austin.  "  He  was 
half-witted,  but  he  was  neither  worthless  nor  a  scoundrel. 
How  dare  you  speak  so  of  Miss  Hilton's  brother  ?  He 
stole  things.  He  was  half-witted,  I  tell  you.  What  have 
you  done  that  you  are  here  ?  I'll  tell  you  what,  little  Bob 
Hilton,  poor  little  devil,  was  in  some  respects  immeasur- 
ably your  superior.    Come  now." 

This  was,  do  you  perceive,  the  way  in  which  Austin  car- 
ried out  his  plan  of  elevating  the  moral  tone  of  the  convicts 
around  him,  by  talking  about  Shakespeare  and  the  musical 
glasses. 


Chapter  XXXVI 

Austin  grew  to  like  this  young  convict.  He  had,  it 
appears,  behaved  pretty  well,  and  was  a  somewhat  privi- 
ledged  person.  When  Gil  was  not  with  him,  Austin  used 
to  walk  a  great  deal  with  this  young  fellow,  Charlton.  Gil 
was  glad  at  Austin's  having  found  some  one  in  the  prison 
of  whom  he  could  make  some  sort  of  a  companion  ;  he 
wondered  at  Austin's  choice,  but  respectfully  acquiesced. 
He  did  not  like  Charlton,  but  that  was  his  fault,  of  course, 
274 


Austin  Elliot 

for  Austin  must  be  right.  Austin's  heroic  nature,  thought 
Gil,  though  in  other  words,  could  not  err  :  so  he  accepted 
Charlton. 

The  fact  was  that  Austin,  so  far  from  having  become 
less  heroic  in  Gil's  eyes,  since  his  misfortune,  had  become 
infinitely  more  so.  When  he  had  found  his  hero  in  misfort- 
une and  disgrace,  his  hero  worship  only  grew  the  stronger 
for  those  circumstances.  Pity  was  in  his  thoroughly  chiv- 
alrous mind,  superadded  to  his  old  admiration,  and  made 
his  love  for  Austin  only  stronger.  But  when  Austin  grew 
well  enough  to  tell  him  the  whole  story,  his  admiration 
grew  into  a  sort  of  barbarous  reverence,  combined  with 
self-congratulation,  at  his  having  been  shrewd  enough  to 
have  picked  out  Austin,  as  the  very  man  to  follow  to  the 
death. 

The  fact  of  Lord  Charles  Barty  having  succeeded  in 
thrusting  himself  forward  into  the  quarrel  before  Austin, 
was  certainly  a  distressing  accident  —  but  Austin's  hunt 
after  Captain  Hertford,  his  wandering  hither  and  thither 
after  him,  with  the  dread  of  his  trial  hanging  over  him  all 
the  time,  his  patient  search  after  him,  the  cunning  he  dis- 
played in  it,  his  calm  behaviour  when  he  brought  the  wolf 
to  bay,  and  his  noble  generosity  in  refusing  to  fire  at  him 
after  all  —  formed,  in  Gil's  Highland  imagination,  the  most 
beautiful  and  glorious  tale  he  had  ever  heard.  I  suppose 
that  it  is  true,  that  heroic  natures  are  apt  to  worship  an 
idol  which  they  suppose  to  possess  the  qualities  they  most 
admire  themselves.  Faithful,  high-souled  valour,  were  the 
qualities  for  which  Austin  was  getting  worshipped,  and 
his  worshipper  was  showing  those  qualities,  to  a  higher  de- 
gree than  ever  had  Austin. 

Gil  had  made  friends  with  the  apprentices.  They  were 
two  good-hearted,  ordinary,  English  lads,  who  were  not  so 
much  learning  their  trade,  as  having  the  details  of  their 
trade  knocked,  so  to  speak,  into  their  heads.  Gil  Mac- 
donald  was  a  fellow  of  genius  and  energy.  A  Quentin 
Durward  of  a  fellow  ;  a  man  who  would  not  consent  to 
275 


Austin  Elliot 

be  starved  at  any  price,  and  so  had  come  South.  The  ap- 
prentices had  asked  "  Scoichy  "  to  have  some  beer  with 
them,  but  Scotchy  would  not,  because  he  wern't  sure 
whether  or  no  he  could  treat  them  in  return.  They  wanted 
Scotchy  to  go  to  Highbury  Barn  with  them ;  but  Scotchy 
wouldn't.  They  couldn't  make  friends  with  him  :  Scotchy 
didn't  want  them  to ;  ^e  wanted  to  make  friends  with  t^em. 
He  did  so ;  he  appealed  to  their  generosity ;  and  it  is  a 
queer  sort  of  English  apprentice,  who  can  stand  ^Aa^  ap- 
peal. Gil  got  first  one  of  them,  and  then  another,  to  show 
him  little  tricks  in  gun-making  which  he  did  not  know, 
and  they  had  gladly  done  so ;  after  this  Gil  would  sit  up 
half  the  night  easing  them  of  their  work.  Yes,  Scotchy 
was  a  good  fellow,  though  he  would  not  go  to  Highbury 
Barn.  So  Gil  and  the  apprentices  got  fond  of  one  another, 
as  English  and  Scotch  lads  always  will,  if  there  is  no  fool 
by  to  make  mischief  between  them. 

So  much  for  Gil ;  and  he  deserves  so  much  at  least. 
We  must  return  to  Austin. 

This  young  convict  which  he  had  taken  up,  or  to  be 
more  correct,  had  taken  up  with  him,  persisted  for  a  long 
while  in  calling  himself  Charlton.  He  was  a  fellow  of 
very  few  words,  but  when  he  did  speak  he  showed  some 
knowledge  of  educated  society.  He  was,  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent, a  companion  to  Austin.  He  was  evidently,  thought 
Austin,  not  a  gentleman,  but  he  had  seen  a  great  deal  of 
gentlemen.  One  day  Austin  fancied  that  he  might  have 
been  a  billiard-marker,  and  asked  him  the  question. 

"  Yes,"  said  Charlton,  "  I  was  a  billiard-marker  once. 
God  bless  you !  I  have  been  all  sorts  of  things.  I  drove 
a  Hansom  cab  once." 

"  Did  you  }  " 

"  Yes.  I  drove  one  of  the  cleverest  horses  ever  you 
saw.  The  horse  had  been  in  Astley's,  and  was  almost 
like  a  Christian,  by  Jove  !  And  one  day,  when  I  was  in 
the  public-house,  a  fellow  hails  my  cab,  and  the  waterman 
runs  away  after  me.  And  the  fellow  gets  in,  by  George  ! 
276 


Austin  Elliot 

without  noticing  that  there  was  no  one  to  drive,  and  roars 
out '  Treasury ! '  and  away  goes  the  old  horse  like  a  steam- 
engine,  by  himself,  and  when  he  gets  to  Downing  Street 
he  comes  up  short,  and  sends  the  fellow  forward  with  the 
crown  of  his  hat  against  the  splash-board  :  and  when  the 
fellow  gets  out  to  slang  the  cabman,  by  gad !  he  finds 
there's  no  cabman  there.  Yes,  that  was  a  devilish  clever 
horse,  I  say  !  " 

"  You  can't  expect  me  to  believe  that,"  said  Austin. 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"Why  not?  I'll  tell  you.  Because  you  are  always 
lying.     Why  do  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  If  you  tease  and  plague  me  about  my 
lying  and  thieving,  I  will  not  come  and  walk  with  you  any 
more." 

'*  But  you  must  tell  me  one  thing,"  said  Austin.  "  Your 
name  is  not  Charlton." 

"  No,"  said  the  other  sulkily.     "  My  name  is  Goatley." 

"  What,  are  you  little  Bob  Goatley,  at  Tolliday's  ?  I 
thought  I  knew  you." 

The  other,  whom  we  must  now  call  Goatley,  walked 
sulkily  away. 

By  the  end  of  August,  Austin  had  recovered  his  health 
completely.  Goatley  and  he  were  still  together  a  great 
deal.  Goatley  always  grew  sulky,  the  very  instant  Austin 
tried  to  learn  anything  about  his  former  life,  and  at  last  he 
desisted  from  asking  questions.  As  these  few  weeks  went 
on,  Austin  talked  a  great  deal  with  him.  He  so  con- 
tinually attacked,  by  scorn  and  ridicule,  his  habit  of  lying, 
that  the  poor  fellow  made  some  improvement.  Before 
the  end  of  September  a  great  event  occurred,  no  less  a  one 
than  this. 

It  happened  suddenly.  It  came  on  Austin  and  Goatley 
like  an  earthquake,  or  a  whirlwind.  They  were  both 
dazed  by  it,  like  two  bats  in  the  sunshine. 

Goatley  had  told  Austin,  on  the  26th,  that  there  was  a 
disturbance  in  the  prison.  He  had  taken  not  much  notice 
277 


Austin  Elliot 

of  it.  One  of  the  warders,  the  last  thing  at  night  had  con- 
firmed it,  and  had  stayed  a  moment  and  told  Austin  the 
cause  of  it,  but  he  had  nearly  forgotten  all  about  it  next 
morning. 

At  eleven  he  was  let  out  to  walk  in  the  corridor,  and 
Goatley  was  there  waiting  for  him.  He  told  him,  that  in 
two  of  the  corridors,  the  riot  had  been  most  serious.  That 
the  prisoners  were  all  confined  to  their  cells,  except  he, 
and  a  few  others  who  could  be  trusted,  and  that  one  of  the 
officers  had  been  nearly  murdered. 

Everything  was  quite  quiet  for  two  days.  At  the  end 
of  that  time  the  cells  were  unlocked,  and  the  convicts  were 
let  loose  again  to  their  exercise. 

Austin  was  shrewd  enough  to  see  that  there  would  be 
another  riot.  The  instant  that  the  men  were  let  out  of 
their  cells,  they  began  to  gather  in  knots,  and  to  talk  and 
gesticulate.  The  efforts  of  the  warders  to  keep  them 
apart,  and  make  them  move  on,  were  quite  unavailing. 
The  confusion  grew  worse  every  instant ;  the  warders 
were  being  pressed  on,  and  mobbed.  They  tried  to  get 
the  men  back  to  their  cells,  but  they  would  not  go  ;  they 
were  encouraging  one  another  to  violence,  but  as  yet  no 
blow  had  been  struck.  The  warders  were  as  one  man  to 
twenty.     Affairs  looked  very  terrible  indeed. 

Austin  whispered  to  Goatley,  "  keep  with  me,"  and 
pushed  his  way  through  the  crowd,  towards  the  governor's 
lodgings.  They  met  him  running,  five  steps  at  a  time,  up 
the  long  stone  staircase  which  led  from  the  lodge. 

"  Stop,  for  God's  sake,  sir  !  "  said  Austin.  "  The  slight- 
est spark  will  fire  the  powder,  now.  Your  appearance 
might  be  ruin." 

He  had  paused  for  an  instant,  but  he  said,  "  I  must  go 
on,  I  tell  you.  My  poor  officers  will  be  murdered.  I 
must  be  with  them.  I  have  a  company  of  the  Guards  in 
the  yard.  It  is  a  matter  of  a  moment.  Stick  by  me,  Mr. 
Elliot,  as  you  are  a  gentleman." 

At  this  moment  there  was  a  shout  and  a  yell  from  one 
578 


Austin  Elliot 

distant  part  of  the  prison,  and  immediately,  in  every  long- 
drawn  corridor,  it  was  repeated  ten-fold.  Eight  hundred 
convicts  had  suddenly  burst  out  into  aimless  furious  mad- 
ness; and  there  were  forty  poor  unprotected  warders 
among  them. 

The  governor  ran  madly  on  towards  the  riot.  Austin 
and  Goatley  ran  with  him.  As  Austin,  who  had  met  the 
governor,  turned  to  follow  him,  he  saw  that  the  great  gate 
was  opened,  and  that  a  company  of  the  Grenadier  Guards 
was  coming  on,  out  of  the  sunshine  into  the  semi-darkness 
of  the  prison,  swinging  steadily  forward,  with  sloped  arms 
and  fixed  bayonets.  Order  tramping  on  inexorably,  to 
sweep  away  disorder,  by  the  mere  sight  of  it.  He  heard 
Sir  Robert  Ferrers  give  the  word,  "  double,"  and  then  he 
was  after  the  governor,  with  Goatley  close  behind  him. 

The  whole  of  the  corridor  was  filled  with  a  crowded 
mass  of  angry,  desperate  men.  Those  nearest  them  had 
made  some  preparations  for  an  attack  on  this  side.  So  the 
instant  the  poor  governor  ran  towards  them,  Austin  saw 
him  felled  to  the  earth  like  an  ox,  with  the  leg  of  an  iron 
bedstead. 

But  before  the  man  who  did  that  had  time  to  strike  an- 
other blow,  Austin  was  upon  him.  He  saw,  with  the  eye 
of  a  general,  that  this  man  was  the  only  one  there  who 
was  armed,  and  that  the  possession  of  this  weapon  might 
save  the  governor's  life.  He  caught  the  man's  arm  in  his, 
and,  bending  down  his  head,  bit  his  wrist  until  he  let  go 
his  hold  ;  and  then,  with  a  rapid,  dexterous  blow,  sent  him 
tottering  and  reeling,  and  spinning  round  and  round,  till 
he  came  headlong  down  upon  the  pavement  like  a  dead 
man. 

He  glared  defiantly  about  him,  but  he  was  the  only  man 
there  who  was  armed.  The  governor  was  sitting  up,  look- 
ing wild  and  mazed  ;  before  him  were  two  men,  both  in 
the  convict  dress,  fighting  on  the  ground,  rolling  over  and 
over.  The  convicts  were  crowding  round  these  two  men, 
and  kicking  one  of  them  whenever  he  came  uppermost ; 
279 


Austin  Elliot 

their  attention  to  those  two  men  saved  the  governor's 
life. 

Austin  had  just  time  to  notice  these  two  men  fighting, 
when  the  convicts  began  whistling  in  a  sharp  shrill  way, 
and  whooping,  and  yelling.  In  one  instant  were  all  gone. 
No  one  was  left  but  the  man  he  had  knocked  down,  who 
was  snoring  heavily,  the  governor  himself,  and  the  two 
still-fighting  convicts 

And  Sir  Robert  Ferrers.  The  mere  sight  of  that  kind- 
est and  gentlest  of  men,  in  uniform,  with  a  drawn  sword, 
had  been  quite  enough  for  the  convicts.  Profound  tran- 
quillity was  restored,  even  before  they  had  seen  a  single 
man  of  his  company. 

All  this  took  exactly  as  long  to  happen  as  it  took  Sir 
Robert  Ferrers  to  double  across  the  hall,  up  some  sixty 
stone  steps,  and  through  the  corridor.  He  rapidly  ordered 
his  lieutenant  to  see  everything  quiet  instantly ;  and,  put- 
ting up  his  sword,  ran  to  separate  the  two  convicts. 

One  had  got  the  other  down,  and  the  one  underneath 
was  getting  black  in  the  face.  When  they  got  them  apart, 
it  was  found  that  the  winner  was  our  friend  Goatley,  and 
that  the  other  was  one  of  the  most  desperate  characters  in 
the  prison.  Goatley  had  saved  the  governor's  life  ;  there 
was  no  doubt  of  it.  The  governor,  weak  and  stunned  as 
he  was,  called  Sir  Robert's  attention  to  the  fact ;  but 
Goatley  was  found  to  be  in  a  state  of  wild  feline  excite- 
ment, breathing  short  and  hard,  thrusting  every  one  aside 
who  got  between  him  and  the  object  of  his  vengeance, 
showing  the  strongest  inclination  to  go  in,  and,  as  Sir 
Robert  said,  "  finish  "  his  man.  As  they  were  leading  the 
other  off,  Goatley  made  a  rush  at  him,  and  Sir  Robert, 
interposing,  he  and  Goatley  came  down  together  on  the 
floor,  and  Sir  Robert's  sword  got  broke  in  two ;  but  he 
stuck  to  Goatley  long  enough  to  prevent  mischief,  and 
Goatley  was  marched  off  to  his  cell  in  a  furious,  mad, 
cat-like  frame  of  mind,  ready  for  any  amount  of  assault 
and  battery. 

23o 


Austin  Elliot 

That  evening  Sir  Robert  waited  on  a  certain  great  per- 
sonage, with  a  note  from  the  governor,  and  gave  an  ac- 
count of  the  whole  business.  The  great  man  told  Sir 
Robert  something  which  made  him  stare. 

"  By  Gad,"  said  he,  "  that  is  the  sort  of  thing  men  put 
into  novels.     How  very  extraordinary  !  " 

"  Is  it  not  ?  "  said  the  great  man.  "  But  mind,  it  is  all 
in  confidence.     It  is  best  to  say  nothing." 

The  next  morning  an  order  came  down  to  the  prison, 
for  the  immediate  release  of  Austin  Elliot  and  William 
Browning.  William  Browning,  it  is  necessary  to  say,  was 
the  young  man,  whom  we  have  known  by  the  aliases  of 
Charlton  and  Goatley. 

Austin  slept  late,  and  they  would  not  wake  him.  Was 
it  that  they  had  a  disinclination  to  lose  him  ?  I  think  so. 
When  he  woke  at  last,  the  warder  who  had  led  him  back 
to  his  cell  on  the  first  miserable  morning  of  his  imprison- 
ment, stood  beside  his  bed,  and  told  him  that  the  gate  was 
open,  and  that  he  might  walk  out  into  the  world  a  free 
man. 

After  several  repetitions,  he  realized  it  at  last.  He  tried 
to  thank  the  man ;  he  tried  to  pray.  He  succeeded  in 
neither.  He  laid  his  forehead  between  his  knees,  and  did 
the  best  thing  he  could  do  —  he  sobbed  like  a  child. 

He  saw  the  governor  in  his  bed,  and  in  bidding  him 
good-bye,  earnestly  thanked  him  for  his  kindness.  He 
went  into  the  lodge.  They  were  all  waiting  to  say  good- 
bye to  him.  He  must  think  of  them  sometimes,  they  said. 
They  did  not  like  to  say  that  they  were  sorry  to  lose 
him,  but  such  was  the  case ;  there  was  not  one  honest 
face  left  behind  in  that  gloomy  prison  now.  Austin  did 
not  know  till  after,  that  sooner  than  sadden  his  dismissal, 
they  had  kept  from  him  the  fact  that  two  warders,  whom 
he  knew,  were  killed  the  day  before.  "  They  were  on 
duty,"  they  said.  "  They  would  give  Austin's  love  to 
them,  and  tell  them  how  sorry  he  was  not  to  have  wished 
them  good-bye."  He  did  not  know  till  afterwards,  that 
281 


Austin  Elliot 

he  had  sent  his  love  to  two  poor  cold  corpses,  which  lay 
under  sheets,  in  the  dead-house.  No  !  they  closed  the 
great  iron  door  behind  him  without  telling  him  that.  And 
he  stood  blinking  and  trembling  without,  in  the  blazing 
autumn  sunshine. 

*  *  *  *  *  * 

A  well-dressed  young  man  M^as  standing  in  the  sun 
under  the  prison  wall,  and  he  came  to  meet  him.  Austin 
saw  that  it  was  Goatley. 

"  I  did  not  know  you  at  first,"  he  said.  "  I  have  only 
seen  you  in  your  prison  dress.  You  got  your  discharge, 
too." 

"  Yes.  I  thought  you  were  going  to  cut  me.  I  was 
only  waiting  here  to  say  good-bye." 

"  Why  good-bye  ?  " 

"  We  can  never  see  anything  more  of  one  another.  I 
am  far  too  disreputable  a  person  for  you  to  know.  Say 
good-bye,  and  let  us  part  for  ever,  Austin  Elliot." 

"  I  shall  say  no  such  thing,"  said  Austin.  "  You  are 
coming  with  me  to  Canada,  and  there  you  and  I,  and  Gil 
Macdonald,  will  die  respectable  old  men.  Come  along. 
It  were  strange,  indeed,  if  I  deserted  you  now,  my  boy." 

"  If  you  had,"  said  Goatley,  "  I  would  have  been  back 
//lere  in  a  very  few  days." 

So  patient  Gil,  filing  grimly  over  his  guns,  looked  up 
from  the  vice,  wiped  his  eyes  with  his  big  black  hands, 
and  said,  "  Gude  guide  us  !  "  for  Austin  Elliot  was  stand- 
ing in  front  of  him,  and  bidding  him  good-morrow.  And 
that  same  night,  Gil  took  the  two  apprentices  to  a  Scotch 
store  he  knew  of ;  and,  at  his  own  expense,  made  them 
and  himself  also,  so  very  drunk  on  whiskey  and  water, 
that  the  outraged  majesty  of  the  law,  required  that  they 
should  be  all  three  locked  up  at  Bow  Street,  until  they  had 
purged  themselves  of  their  contempt.  They  were  not 
back  before  eleven  the  next  morning.  But  Mr.  Macpher- 
son  was  not  angry  ;  he  only  winked.  And  Mrs.  Macpher- 
son  said,  "  He's  no  awake  yet.  It  does  my  heart  good, 
282 


Austin  Elliot 

Gil  Macdonald,  ye  daft  devil,  to  think  that  he  is  back  in 
his  ain  house  again  after  a'.  If  all  the  world  were  like 
you  and  he  and  our  gude  man,  Gil,  why  it  would  be  no 
muckle  the  waur,  hey  ?  " 


Chapter  XXXVII 

We  must  leave  Austin  here  for  a  short  time ;  and  this 
is  almost  the  first  time  in  this  tale,  in  which  we  have  left 
him.  But  we  must  leave  him,  and  see  how  matters  were 
going  on  at  Ems.  If  sternest  fate  did  not  say  "  no,"  we 
would  have  preferred  to  make  Ems  the  place  in  which 
some  pleasant  genial  story  got  itself  wound  up  ;  in  which 
every  angle  in  one's  tale  was  rounded  off ;  in  whose 
mountain  meadows  happy  lovers  met,  and  parted  no  more. 
But  that  cannot  be.  With  all  its  wonderful  beauty,  it  is 
a  wicked  little  place.  Under  the  auspices  of  the  Duke  of 
Nassau,  the  play  runs  higher  than  at  most  places  on  the 
continent;  there  are  many  men  who  curse  the  day  on 
which  they  first  saw  its  lovely  winding  valleys,  and  hang- 
ing sheets  of  woodland. 

The  morning  of  the  duel,  old  James  went  off  into  town 
on  some  errand  or  another.  Towards  two  o'clock  he 
heard  the  terrible  news  and  brought  it  home.  He  looked 
so  wild  and  scared,  that  his  old  enemies,  the  maids,  grew 
frightened  too.  They  forbore  to  tease  him,  or  to  laugh  at 
him  ;  but  besought  him,  in  eager  whispers,  to  tell  them 
what  was  the  matter.  At  last  he  did  so,  and  then  they 
stood  all  silent  and  terrified.  "  Who  is  to  break  it  to 
her  ?  "  asked  one  at  last. 

No  one  knew ;  it  was  a  business  no  one  would  under- 
take. Even  the  very  housekeeper,  who  had  nursed  Elea- 
nor when  a  baby,  shrank  from  the  task.  Lord  Charles 
killed,  and  Mr.  Austin  in  prison.  God  spare  her  from  tell- 
ing such  news.  At  last,  the  youngest  and  most  heedless 
283 


Austin  Elliot 

of  the  servant  girls,  suggested  that  they  should  send  for 
Lord  Edward. 

It  was  a  good  idea,  but  James  would  not  agree  to  act 
on  it.  He  said  she  must  be  told  at  once,  lest  the  news 
should  come  to  her  any  other  way ;  and,  after  a  long 
pause,  he  undertook  to  go  and  tell  her  himself. 

He  went  up  to  the  drawing-room,  and  found  Eleanor 
alone  there.  She  saw  that  disaster  was  written  in  his 
face  ;  and  she  prayed  him,  for  old  love's  sake,  to  be  quick, 
and  strike  his  blow.  He  did  so  ;  he  told  her  all,  as  quiet- 
ly as  he  could  ;  and  then  she  fell  back  in  her  chair  speech- 
less. She  never  said  one  word,  good  or  bad.  She  tried 
to  undo  the  handkerchief  round  her  throat,  but  could  not ; 
then  she  feebly  clutched  her  hair  with  her  hands,  until  one 
long  loop  of  it  fell  down  across  her  face ;  and  then  she 
clasped  her  hands  in  her  lap  in  her  old  patient  attitude, 
and  sat  pale  and  still. 

Old  James  was  kneeling  at  her  feet,  and  praying  her  to 
speak  to  him  ;  when  he  heard  the  door  locked  behind  him. 
He  started  up,  and  Aunt  Maria  was  standing  between  him 
and  the  door.  Old  James,  valiant  old  soul  as  he  was, 
grew  frightened.  She  had  got  on  her  dressing-gown  only, 
her  hair  was  all  tumbled  and  wild,  her  great  coarse  throat 
was  bare,  and  her  big  black  eyebrows  were  nearly  hiding 
her  cruel  little  eyes ;  she  looked  redder,  angrier,  madder, 
than  ever.  He  saw  that  she  had  heard  every  word ;  he 
saw  that  she  had  locked  the  door  behind  her,  and  was 
standing  silently  scowling  at  them  ;  and  for  one  moment 
he  trembled. 

But  only  for  one  instant.  His  darling  Miss  Eleanor 
was  there,  and  his  courage  returned ;  he  faced  her,  furi- 
ously. 

'•  Give  me  that  key,  you  old  Atrophy ! "  he  said,  (mean- 
ing, possibly,  Atropos  ;  Lord  knows  what  he  meant ! ) 
"  Give  it  up  to  me,  I  tell  you  !  " 

*'  Come  and  take  it,  you  old  dog !  You  old  thief  !  you 
beggarly,  old,  barefooted  shoeblack  boy  !  that  my  fool  of 
284 


Austin  Elliot 

a  brother  picked  out  of  the  gutter,  fifty  years  ago,  because 
you  had  a  face  like  a  monkey,  and  made  him  laugh ! 
Come  and  take  it !     Do  you  hear  ?  " 

James  was  politic.  Aunt  Maria  was  decidedly  the 
strongest  of  the  two.  He  fell  back  on  his  tongue,  which 
was  nearly  as  good  a  one  as  Aunt  Maria's. 

"  Your  brother !  "  he  said  ;  ''your  brother !  O  Lord !  " 

"  Put  it  in  Chancery,"  she  said.  "  Put  it  in  Chancery, 
you  penniless  old  rogue  !     Aha !  " 

James  gave  a  glance  at  Eleanor,  and  saw  that  she  was 
quite  unconscious  of  what  was  passing.  With  infinite 
shrewdness  he  remained  perfectly  quiet,  and  let  Aunt 
Maria  begin  at  her. 

She  came  towards  her,  pointing  at  her  with  the  key. 

"  You  little  snake  !  —  You  little  devil !  —  You  little  sly, 
smooth-faced,  pianoforte  playing  minx !  So  you  set  on 
your  two  gallant  bully  lovers  to  murder  Will  Hertford,  did 
you  ?  He  has  given  a  gallant  account  of  them  !  He  zs  a 
man  !  why  his  little  finger  is  worth  ten  of  your  Bartys  and 
Elliots !  One  dead  and  the  other  in  prison !  Oh,  brave 
Will  Hertford !  Get  up,  do  you  hear,  get  up  !  you  little 
devil ! " 

"  Leave  her  alone,"  said  old  James  ;  "  or  by  the  Lord, 
I'll  — " 

"  Assault  your  mistress's  Aunt,  and  be  walked  off  to  the 
police-station,  is  that  it  ?  I  am  going  to  use  you.  Master 
James,  and  when  I  have  done  with  you,  pitch  you  on  one 
side,  like  an  old  shoe.  I  have  won  the  game  !  Take  this 
key,  open  the  door,  and  send  her  maid  to  her.  I  have  won 
the  game,  old  snake  !  " 

It  would  have  puzzled  Aunt  Maria  to  say  what  game  she 
had  won.  Originally  she  certainly  was  very  fond  of  Cap- 
tain Hertford,  and  was  so  still.  She  had  had  a  plan  of 
marrying  him  to  Eleanor,  and  gaining  some  sort  of  power 
over  her  wealth  :  this  had  given  her  her  intense  hatred  of 
Austin  ;  but  what  with  drink  and  incipient  insanity,  all 
power  of  keeping  one  plan  before  her,  had  gone  long  ago. 
285 


Austin  Elliot 

Passion  had  supplanted  reason.  She  loved  Will  Hertford 
still,  in  a  way,  and  she  hated  Austin  and  the  Bartys  ;  she 
had  nothing  left  to  guide  her  now  but  a  mad  woman's 
cunning. 

She  displayed  a  considerable  amount  of  it  this  day.  She 
went  out,  and  ordered  the  maids  to  pack  up  everything  for 
a  long  journey,  and  shortly  afterwards  made  her  appear- 
ance, dressed  in  the  height  of  fashion,  looking  quite  sane 
and  collected.  She  ordered  the  carriage,  went  to  the  bank- 
ers and  got  money,  went  to  the  passport-office  and  got 
passports  ;  she  went  to  Mivart's,  got  a  courier  recommend- 
ed to  her;  went  to  the  Hotel  Sabloni^re,  in  Leicester 
Square,  and  fetched  the  gentleman  home.  Then  she  gave 
directions  to  the  housekeeper  about  shutting  up  the  house, 
and  discharging  the  servants,  and  lastly,  she  sent  the  cou- 
rier to  secure  berths  on  board  the  Soho,  for  Antwerp. 

Then  she  went  up  to  Eleanor.  She  was  sitting  near  the 
window,  weeping  bitterly.  Aunt  Maria  was  in  good  tem- 
per now,  and  was  very  gentle  with  her. 

"  My  love,"  she  said,  "  I  am  glad  you  are  better.  In  my 
grief  this  morning  I  used  harsh  words  to  you.  Are  they 
forgiven  }  " 

"  I  know  nothing  of  them,  aunt ;  yet,  if  you  used  them, 
they  are  forgiven." 

"  Are  you  better,  dear  ?  " 

"  I  am  quite  well,  aunt ;  only  my  heart  is  broken." 

"  Nonsense,  everything  will  come  right.  See  here. 
Austin  will  be  liberated  on  bail,  and  will  go  abroad.  We 
ought  to  go  abroad  instantly.     Can  you  travel  ?  " 

"  You  can  do  as  you  will  with  me,  aunt.  Only,  dear 
aunt,  I  have  been  so  patient  and  loving  to  you,  I  have  never 
returned  you  one  angry  word.  Aunt,  for  God's  sake  don't 
scold  me  ! " 

"  Tut,  tut,  silly  one.  Who  is  scolding  ?  Come,  we 
start  to-night,  bid  your  maid  get  ready." 

The  next  night  they  were  at  Brussels,  and  old  James 
made  one  of  the  party.  It  was  his  first  expedition  into 
286 


Austin  Elliot 

foreign  parts,  since  the  taking  of  the  Bastile,  and  his  preju- 
dices against  foreigners  were  as  strong  as  they  were  in 
1792.  But  there  he  was,  and  there  were  three  strong  rea- 
sons for  his  being  there.  First,  Eleanor  had  asked  him  to 
go;  second,  he  was  most  fully  determined  that  happen 
what  might,  he  would  never  lose  sight  of  Eleanor ;  and 
thirdly,  that  Aunt  Maria  was  most  fully  determined  that 
she  would  keep  this  dangerous  old  fellow  under  her  own 
eye. 

What  could  the  old  fellow  do?  His  dread  of  what 
might  be  the  end  of  Eleanor's  being  carried  abroad,  was 
boundless.  But  old  Mr.  Hilton  had  managed  his  affairs 
in  life  so  well,  that  he  had  died,  leaving  not  one  single 
personal  friend  behind  him,  but  Mr.  Elliot,  and  now  he 
was  dead.  There  was  actually  no  one  left  to  appeal  to  for 
help,  but  blind  Lord  Edward  Barty.  James  scrawled  a  let- 
ter to  him,  and  Lord  Edward  started  on  the  trail  at  once, 
and  overtook  them  at  Brussels.  Aunt  Maria  showed  no 
disgust  at  his  appearance ;  she  was  very  gracious  and  ge- 
nial, and  kept  her  temper  for  her  maid,  whom  she  kept  in 
the  most  terrible  subjection,  partly  by  her  tongue,  and 
pardy  by  wielding  against  the  unfortunate  woman,  a  cer- 
tain supposed  clause  in  her  will,  susceptible  of  instant 
alteration  ;  on  suspicion  of  the  poor  wretch's  having  ex- 
changed a  single  word,  in  confidence,  with  old  James. 

Aunt  Maria  found  walking  exercise  necessary,  and  so 
she  used  to  walk  out  every  day,  to  take  and  fetch  the  let- 
ters from  the  post  office,  near  the  Place  de  la  Revolution. 
Meanwhile,  Eleanor  had  a  piano  in  her  room,  and  Lord 
Edward  used  to  come  and  play  it,  and  wonder  why  on 
earth  Austin  had  not  answered  their  letters. 

Old  James,  both  here  and  elsewhere,  was  far  too  much 
engaged  in  a  vast,  chronic,  ceaseless  squabble,  with  the 
whole  Belgian  nation,  to  be  at  all  available  for  any  reason- 
able business  :  his  life  was  one  great  wrangle  about  the 
food.  And  moreover,  he  had  a  most  vivid  remembrance  of 
holding  Mr.  Jenkinson's  coat  tails  tight  in  one  hand,  and 
287 


Austin  Elliot 

Mr.  Hilton's  in  the  other ;  of  looking  cautiously  between 
the  shoulders  of  those  gentlemen,  and  of  seeing  all  St. 
Antoine,  seething,  and  howling,  and  leaping,  and  raging 
over  the  bridge,  into  the  Bastile.  He  fully  believed  that 
people  in  foreign  parts  did  that  sort  of  thing  once  a  month 
or  so,  and  that  the  Place  de  la  Revolution,  where  they  lived, 
was  the  spot  set  aside  by  the  Government  for  the  perform- 
ance, at  stated  periods,  of  the  same  sort  of  Devil's  dance, 
which  he  had  witnessed  in  Paris  fifty  years  before,  for  a 
week  or  so.  He  had  always  been  very  particular  about 
his  money  too,  and  now  was  worrying  himself  to  death, 
from  having  to  change  good  money,  into  coins,  with  whose 
value  he  was  totally  unacquainted.  In  short,  the  poor  old 
fellow  was  in  a  totally  unavailable  state  for  all  reasonable 
business. 

When  they  had  been  there  a  short  time,  Aunt  Maria  ex- 
pressed her  intention  of  breaking  up  the  camp,  and  going 
to  Ems.  She  was  the  only  person  in  the  house  who  read 
Galignani.  She  read  one  morning  a  short  account  of  the 
duel  at  Ems,  between  Austin  and  Captain  Hertford ;  she 
determined  to  follow  him  to  that  place. 

Nobody  opposed  her,  and  they  went.  When  their  car- 
riage drove  up  the  street,  Captain  Hertford  was  standing 
by  the  arch,  which  crosses  the  street  by  the  Kursal.  When 
he  saw  her  face,  he  cursed  and  swore  so  awfully,  that  Cap- 
tain Jackson,  who  was  standing  by,  said, 

"  I  say,  Hertford,  don't  use  such  language  ;  it  isn't  good 
taste." 

"  I  can't  help  it,"  said  he,  **  when  I  see  that  cursed  old 
woman's  face.  It  makes  me  mad  to  think  what  she  has 
brought  me  to ;  I  can't  go  to  England,  I  don't  care  so 
much  about  that ;  I  must  resign  my  seat  in  Parliament, 
that  is  the  very  deuce,  but  it  isn't  that.  It  is  that  young 
dandy  Charles  Barty  —  I  can't  get  him  out  of  my  head.  I 
wasn't  sorry  at  the  time  —  I  don't  know  that  I  am  sorry 
now  —  but  he  came  down  so  sudden ;  it  was  so  devilish 
horrid.  —  Did  you  ever  see  anything  more  horrid  !  I've 
288 


Austin  Elliot 

killed  my  man  before,  but  not  such  a  lad  as  he  ;  it  is  always 
coming  back  to  me  —  the  brandy  is  no  good  against  it. 
I  tried  that,  and  it  made  it  worse,  so  I  dropped  it." 

"  I  wish  to  God,  you  wotild  dro^  it,"  said  Jackson  fierce- 
ly. "  Why  the  devil  do  you  go  on  harping  on  this  wretched 
business  }     What  do  you  think  /  must  feel  about  it  ?  " 

Captain  Hertford  remained  silent. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Hertford,"  continued  the  other ; 
"  don't  let  us  mention  that  duel  again.  I  should  be  very 
glad,  if  you  would  tell  me  the  truth  about  your  connexion 
with  Miss  Hilton." 

"  I  will  do  so,  Jackson  —  I  think  you  are  a  good  fellow. 
—  Don't  pitch  me  overboard.  —  I  shall  blow  my  brains 
out,  if  you  do.  Old  Maria  Hilton  had  always  a  great  ad- 
miration for  me,  which  was  not  reciprocated.  But  I  al- 
ways kept  in  with  her,  and  kept  friendly  with  her.  Well ! 
Hang  it,  sir,  she  bought  my  company  for  me.     There !  " 

Captain  Hertford  paused.  They  walked  together  down 
the  terrace,  which  hangs  over  the  river ;  but  Captain  Hert- 
ford had  come  to  a  dead  stop. 

"  You  were  going  to  tell  me,"  —  said  Jackson. 

••  About  little  Miss  Hilton ;  well,  Jackson,  if  you  had 
been  brought  up  such  a  neglected  Arab  as  I,  you  would 
have  been  as  bad  as  I." 

"  I  might  be  worse." 

"  Well,  you  might ;  however,"  resumed  he  slowly, 
"  through  Miss  Hilton,  I  of  course  grew  to  be  acquainted 
with  her  nephew  Robert.  He  had  been  expelled  from  the 
army,  for  stealing  everything  he  could  lay  his  hands  on. 
She  asked  me  to  see  him  at  Brussels  ;  I  did  so.  I  took 
him  up  rather,  because  I  thought  she  was  fond  of  him.  — 
Never  mind  why  I  took  him  up.  He  robbed  me  of  some 
letters  belonging  to  Lord  Mewstone,  and  go;  the  signature 
copied,  by  a  clever  rogue,  on  to  a  cheque.  Finding  him- 
self discovered,  he  bolted  to  Namur,  where  he  committed 
suicide." 

"  A  tender-conscienced  thief." 
289 


Austin  Elliot 

"  Yet  he  was  well  brought  up :  he  was  Miss  Hilton's 
brother;  I  brought  the  news  back  to  England.  There 
old  Miss  Hilton  pointed  out  to  me,  that  Eleanor  Hilton 
would  be  a  great  heiress,  and,  that  I  ought  to  marry  her  ; 
and  so  the  scheme  was  begun  ;  I  went  down  to  Wales ; 
and  found  Elliot,  the  fool,  falling  in  love  with  my  worthy 
half-brother's  future  Countess  —  I  encouraged  him." 

*'  But,  how  went  your  scheme  with  Miss  Hilton  ?  " 

"  Hot  and  cold,  hot  at  first,  and  afterwards,  when  she 
paid  my  election  expenses,  very  cold  indeed.  Still,  I  al- 
ways had  hopes ;  and  the  old  woman  kept  them  going. 
What  led  to  this  miserable  affair  was  this  :  I  got  cleaned 
out  on  the  City  and  Suburban,  and  some  tradesmen  were 
troublesome,  and  then,  I  went  about  and  said  that  I  was 
to  marry  her.  I  was  very  familiar  with  her.  Well,  I  had 
a  secret.  —  I  did  not  exactly  ^rade  on  it ;  but  I  used  it.  I 
was  a  great  deal  with  her ;  I  am  a  needy  man,  and  I 
talked  about  marrying  her  ;  and  Elliot  heard  it." 

"  People  say,  that  you  had  a  plan  to  shoot  Elliot ;  and 
to  get  the  girl  abroad,  and  that  that  plan  got  blown  upon, 
and  that  you  had  out  Lord  Charles  Barty  instead.  Is 
there  any  truth  in  that  ?  " 

"  Yes,  a  great  deal.  That  was  the  plan  proposed  to  me 
by  the  old  woman." 

"  It  seems  to  have  been  attended  with  the  most  brilliant 
success." 

"  The  most  brilliant,"  replied  Hertford  bitterly.  "  I 
have  lost  my  seat  in  Parliament :  I  cannot  go  to  England  ; 
and  if  it  were  not  for  my  wonderful  luck  at  the  tables,  I 
should  be  very  poor." 

"  Well,  you  have  not  told  your  story  altogether  con- 
sistently, Hertford.  I  could  not  expect  you  to  do  so.  But 
at  the  same  time  you  seem  to  have  succeeded.  You  have 
shot  one  man,  got  the  other  locked  up  in  prison  (that  is  no 
fault  of  yours),  and  now  the  girl  has  followed  you  here." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  Hertford.  "  The  scheme  has  suc- 
ceeded wonderfully.  I  wish  to  God  I  had  never  heard  of 
290 


Austin  Elliot 

it.  I  am  not  rascal  enough  to  go  on  any  further  with  it, 
Jackson." 

"  I  don't  think  you  could,  could  you  ?  "  said  Captain 
Jackson. 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  She  would  hardly  see  you  after  what  you  have  done. 
This  lord  was  her  friend,  and  they  say  she  was  fond  of 
Elliot." 

"  I  tell  you,"  he  said,  "  that  if  I  were  rogue  enough  I 
could  make  her  aunt  bully  her  into  marrying  me  in  a 
month.    You  don't  know  the  old  woman." 

Lord  Edward  Barty  and  Eleanor  had  a  very  peaceful 
and  quiet  time  at  Ems.  I  believe  that  Captain  Hertford 
was  in  earnest  about  not  prosecuting  the  villanous  scheme, 
which  had  ended  in  the  death  of  Lord  Charles  Barty,  and 
the  imprisonment  of  Austin.  But  if  he  had  ever  so  much 
intended  to  take  advantage  of  Eleanor's  situation,  the 
presence  of  the  trusty  Lord  Edward  Barty  rendered  it 
impossible. 

He  was  continually  with  her.  He  could  not  be  happy 
without  her.  She,  with  her  patient  ways,  had  become  a 
necessity  to  him.  As  for  his  falling  in  love  with  her,  he 
simply  never  knew  what  it  meant.  He  had  loved  his 
brother  Charles  much  better  than  he  was  likely  to  love 
her ;  he  at  present  loved  his  brother  George  much  better 
than  her ;  he  liked  her  better  than  Lord  Wargrave,  and 
not  so  well  as  Lord  George,  that  was  all.  She  was  kind 
to  him,  and  he  liked  her  —  nay,  he  loved  her ;  but  he 
thought  that  it  would  be  much  pleasanter  when  all  this 
trouble  was  over,  and  Austin  came  and  married  her. 
Then  there  would  be  glorious  times  indeed. 

Of  course  the  little  world  of  Ems  —  not  an  entirely  re- 
spectable little  world  —  talked  about  them,  but  I  don't 
think  any  one  was  the  worse  for  their  talking.  The  two 
people  whom  they  talked  about  never  heard  it,  and  so  it 
does  not  much  matterw  Eleanor  and  Lord  Edward  were 
291 


Austin  Elliot 

left  in  peace  all  that  summer  without  much  to  disturb 
them,  except  their  anxiety  at  not  hearing  from  Austin. 

Aunt  Maria  was  never  troublesome  now ;  they  hardly 
noticed  what  she  did  with  herself.  Old  James  called  their 
attention  to  her  first,  after  they  had  been  there  nearly  a 
month. 

Eleanor  was  sitting  at  the  piano  alone,  in  her  great  high 
bare  room,  tr}^ing  some  music.  James  opened  the  door 
very  quietly  and  came  in.  She  heard  him,  and  turned 
round  on  the  music-stool. 

She  looked  ten  years  older  than  she  had  looked  before 
all  this  had  happened.  She  had  shown  her  sorrow  to  no 
one.  She  had  been  eating  her  heart  in  secret ;  keeping 
her  griefs  for  the  long  dark  hours  of  night,  and  showing  a 
brave  front  in  the  daytime.  She  had  been  doing  this 
months  and  months  before  this  unhappy  duel.  Her  hair 
had  grey  streaks  in  it  before  things  came  round  again. 

"  James,"  she  said,  "  where  have  you  been  so  late  ?  " 

"  I've  been  to  Marksburg,  to  see  they  sojers  a  march- 
ing. They're  a  marching  from  St.  Goar  to  Coblentz ; 
pretty  nigh  two  regiments  on  'em.  And  I  goes  over  in  a 
boat  to  see  'em,  and  there  they  was,  with  kitching  candle- 
sticks on  their  elmets.  Fine  men  to  look  at  —  ah.  And 
then  I  went  in  over  the  way,  and  seen  'em  playing.  Lord, 
worn't  she  taking  the  money  in  !  " 

"  Who  ?  " 

"  S/te.    Have  she  made  her  will  ?  " 

"  Do  you  mean  Aunt  Maria  ?  " 

"  In  course  I  do.  Do  you  know  that  she  have  won  a 
thousand  pound  in  eight  days  ?  " 

"  My  aunt !     Is  she  playing  ?  " 

••  Ah  !  and  winning,  too.  And  so  is  Captain  Hertford. 
He  and  she  have  had  a  tussle ;  acause  he  haint  been  to 
see  her  often  enough." 

This  was  Aunt  Maria's  employment.  She  was  gam- 
bling desperately.     One  day  in  September  the  end  came. 

She  had  at  first  won,  as  James  had  told  Eleanor,  above 
292 


Austin  Elliot 

a  thousand  pounds^  Then  her  luck  turned.  She  lost. 
She  nearly  recovered  herself  again  ;  lost  once  more  —  be- 
gan to  lose  terribly.  She  was  more  than  five  hundred 
pounds  "  to  the  bad  "  one  evening  when  she  went  to  play 
for  the  last  time. 

She  had  had  a  quarrel  with  Captain  Hertford.  His  luck 
had  been  terribly  good  this  season ;  he  had  been  winning, 
and  winning.  She  took  her  place  opposite  to  him  that 
evening,  and  for  the  first  time  cut  him  dead. 

He  won  beyond  all  precedent.  As  he  won,  she  seemed 
to  lose  in  proportion ;  she  wrote  cheque  after  cheque.  At 
last,  when  she  had  lost  eight  hundred  pounds,  she  got  up, 
and  made  a  scene  which  no  one  ther^  ever  forgot. 

She  rose  up,  and  in  a  sharp  snarling  voice  denounced 
Captain  Hertford.  She  called  him  an  ungrateful  hound, 
unfit  to  live ;  she  screamed  out  before  them,  all  the  plot 
against  Austin  and  Lord  Charles  Barty,  and  then  said  that 
he,  Captain  Hertford,  had  known  all  along  that  she  was 
only  an  illegitimate  half-sister  of  old  Mr.  Hilton's.  She 
said  fifty  other  frantic  things,  which,  of  course,  no  one  at- 
tended to.  The  end  of  it  was,  that  the  gamblers  huddled 
away  out  of  the  room  like  a  herd  of  frightened  sheep,  and 
left  the  terrible  old  woman  standing  there  in  the  middle, 
perfectly  insane,  trying  to  bite  at  the  hands  of  the  two 
croupiers  who  held  her. 

After  a  time  they  were  able  to  move  her.  They  had  a 
terrible  journey  with  her  to  England.  Her  reason  never 
returned.  Eleanor  got  her  safe  home  at  last.  Their  old 
house  at  Esher  had,  as  I  prophesied,  been  taken  as  a  mad- 
house. Aunt  Maria,  poor  soul,  was  taken  there,  and  there 
she  staid  till  she  died ;  always  under  the  impression  that 
it  was  their  own  house  still,  and  that  the  other  patients 
were  only  so  many  visitors. 


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Austin  Elliot 


Chapter  XXXVIII 

Austin  slept  long  the  night  after  his  release.  He  slept 
late  into  the  day,  like  a  tired  child,  and  at  last  when  he 
woke  he  lay  still,  waiting  for  the  dreadful  bell,  which  in 
prison  had  summoned  him  and  the  other  convicts  to  rise 
from  sleep,  to  quit  the  paradise  of  dreams,  and  come  back 
to  earth  ;  to  the  cold,  hard,  reality  of  the  dull,  squalid,  hid- 
eous prison  life. 

At  first,  when  he  had  wakened  to  consciousness  in  gaol, 
he  had  always,  for  a  moment  or  so,  fancied  that  he  was 
back  safe  in  his  old  room  at  home  ;  and  that  the  past  was 
merely  a  series  of  bad  dreams  :  and  he  would  sit  up  in  his 
bed  to  shake  them  off  —  sit  up  and  look  round,  to  find  his 
worst  dream  only  too  terribly  true. 

After  a  time,  he  grew  to  be  cunning  in  his  sleep ;  to 
know  that  he  only  awoke  to  misery,  and  so  to  hold  on, 
with  obstinate  tenacity,  to  the  fag  end  of  a  dream,  as  long 
as  possible,  in  order  that  he  might  keep  it  going  until  he 
was  roused  by  that  dreadful  bell ;  for  he  found  in  practice, 
that  the  poorest  dream,  underlain  as  it  might  be  with  the 
sickening  dread  of  waking  from  it,  was  preferable  to  the 
waking  itself,  and  to  seeing  the  four  whitewashed  walls. 
The  very  stupidest  old  dream,  a  dream  that  he  detected 
and  laughed  at  while  he  dreamt  it,  was  better  than  wak- 
ing and  seeing  the  prison  walls  around  him. 

On  this  morning  he  dreamt  that  he  was  hunted  through 
Hyde  Park  by  something  or  another,  which  was  called 
974,  until  he  came  to  Apsley  House,  at  which  place  he 
managed  to  rise  into  the  air,  and  triumphantly  flew  nearly 
over  the  Green  Park,  leaving  974  to  come  round  by  Con- 
stitution Hill.  He  wished  to  keep  in  the  air  until  the  bell 
rang,  but  he  could  not.  He  came  down  in  front  of  Buck- 
ingham Palace  and  woke. 

He  waited  for  the  bell.  That  bell  never  rung  any  more 
294 


Austin  Elliot 

for  him  —  it  rings  still  for  eight  hundred  miserable  souls, 
but  not  for  him.  After  a  few  minutes,  he  began  to  see 
that  he  was  in  his  old  room  again  ;  he  sat  up,  and  found 
that  it  was  true.  For  a  minute,  he  thought  that  the  whole 
past  had  been  dreamt,  but  the  next  he  knew  that  it  was 
real ;  that  he  had  been  in  prison  and  was  free.  He  fell 
back  again  and  tried  to  pray,  but  the  utterance  of  his  pray- 
er was  swept  in  a  whirlwind  of  passion. 

He  rose  and  dressed  himself.  His  resolution  had  been 
made  long  ago  in  prison  ;  he  rose  from  his  bed  calmly  de- 
termined to  act  upon  it  at  once.  It  was  the  result  of  long, 
calm  thought,  when  his  head  was  cool,  and  his  intellect 
perfectly  clear  and  unbiassed.  He  had  said  to  himself  in 
prison,  "  What  is  the  right  thing  to  do  ?  When  I  get  free 
I  shall  be  excited,  my  judgment  will  not  be  so  clear  as  it 
is  now.  The  resolution  made  now  must  be  inexorably 
carried  out,  without  reason  or  argument,  when  I  am 
free." 

What  was  his  resolution  ?  Possibly  the  most  foolish 
one  ever  made  —  at  all  events,  very  foolish,  as  are  all  res- 
olutions made  in  the  same  spirit ;  that  is  to  say,  resolutions 
made  without  the  saving  clause,  "  that  they  may  be  altered 
by  circumstances  and  after  thoughts  :  "  these  are  indeed, 
if  persisted  in,  not  resolutions,  but  obstinacies.  Austin 
had  make  himself  a  non  possmn,  and  he  was  going  to  act 
on  it  at  once ;  lest  the  non  should  be  swept  away  and 
high-souled  martyrdom  should  become  a  more  difficult 
matter.  His  grand  resolution  was  this  —  to  see  Eleanor 
safe  under  the  protection  of  the  Duchess  of  Cheshire  (who 
was  very  willing  to  be  kind  to  her),  and  then  himself  go 
to  —  where  }  Why  Canada  !  and  see  her  no  more  :  and 
he  carried  out  his  resolution  most  inexorably.  He  knew 
that  she  loved  him,  as  he  loved  her,  and  he  would  not  be 
so  base  as  to  follow  her  with  his  ruined  fortunes :  that 
was  one  argument,  and  the  great  one.  Besides,  she  had 
shown  her  good  sense  and  propriety  by  deserting  him, 
which  was  another. 

295 


Austin  Elliot 

"  Gil,"  said  he,  sitting  by  the  forge  that  evening,  '•  I 
have  been  to  see  my  attorney." 

"  May  the  deil  d — n  a'  attorneys,  barristers,  and  writers 
to  the  signet,  and  him  first  of  all,"  was  Gil's  reply. 

"  Why  }  "  asked  Austin. 

**  Why  ! "  said  Gil,  "  why !  After  lee'ing  till  the  deil 
dinna  like  to  hae  him,  could  he  no  lee  loud  eneuch  to  keep 
ye  out  of  prison  ?  Being  paid  for  his  work  in  hard  guineas 
and  everlasting  perdition,  and  then  no  doing  it  after  all. 
Why.?  quoth  he." 

"  Don't  you  be  an  old  fool,  Gil.  Mr.  Compton  is  as 
noble  and  good  an  old  man  as  any  in  the  kingdom.  You 
will  know  it  soon  ;  you  shall  meet  him." 

"  Meet  him  soon !  I'm  no  saying  contrary.  Life  is 
short,  and  no  man's  salvation  is  sure.  But  I'll  no  speak 
to  him." 

"  I  hope  you  will,  Gil." 

"  I'm  obleeged  to  you ;  but  there,  as  here,  I'll  choose 
my  own  acquaintances." 

"  Don't  be  cross  with  me,  Gil." 

"  Cross  wi'  you.  God  forgive  me !  Cross  wi'  my  ain 
master  (ye'U  no  get  a  highlandivan  to  say  that  every  day 
of  the  week,)  cross  with  ye  ! " 

"  I  thought  you  were.  Look  here ;  that  Mr.  Compton 
has  watched  my  interests  very  carefully ;  he  has  been  a 
very  faithful  friend.  The  Crown  has  not  claimed  my 
property,  and  he  has  taken  good  care  of  it." 

"  The  Crown  no  claimed  your  property  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Have  you  got  your  own  wealth  back  again  ?  Has  the 
Queen  gi'en  ye  back  your  siller  ?  " 

"  She  never  took  it,  God  bless  her  !  " 

"  So  ye'U  no  want  to  learn  the  gun  trade  —  so  we'll  no 
have  to  sit  pontering  here  together,  over  the  dommed  old 
gunstocks  —  so  all  the  happy  days  I  had  pictured  to  my- 
self, are  all  blasted  awa  to  the  winds.  'Tis  a  weary  un- 
grateful world." 

296 


Austin  Elliot 

"  It  is  nothing  of  the  kind,  Gil.    Listen  to  me." 

"  I'll  listen  to  ye.  But  I  did  hope  to  see  your  lang  white 
fingers  grimed  with  the  rust  and  the  oil,  and  to  hear  ye 
say,  'we've  done  well  to-day,  Gil.'  Born  an  aristocrat, 
die  an  aristocrat.  Are  ye  never  to  know  the  weariness  of 
thirsting  for  work,  and  the  peace  and  happiness  of  getting 
work  to  do  at  last,  master  ?  " 

"  Don't  call  me  master,  Gil ;  call  me  friend." 

"  The  tane  involves  the  tither,  I'm  thinking,  or  should, 
if  I  understand  it  right.     Now,  I'm  listening." 

"  Then  I  will  speak,  Gil,  faithful  old  friend.  There  are 
better  trades  than  gun-making." 

"  I'm  no  denying  it.  The  trades  of  Prime  Minister, 
newspaper  editor,  or  keeper  of  a  disorderly  house,  are  a 
muckle  deal  more  remunerative ;  but  all  three  more  pre- 
carious." 

•'  Now  don't  be  a  fool,"  said  Austin,  laughing,  "  or  I 
won't  speak  to  you." 

•'  A  fool !  quoth  he,"  replied  Gil,  smiling,  and  hammer- 
ing away.  "  I  thought  we  were  Radical.  If  my  master 
is  going  to  turn  Tory,  and  object  to  an  honest  bit  of  Rad- 
icalism from  a  puir  working  man,  why  I  must  turn  too, 
and  sing  my  last  song,  like  a  hooper  in  the  death  thraws : 

*  The  Deil  was  aince  a  Tory, 

Tory  oh  !     Tory  oh  ! 
But  he  heard  another  story, 

Story  oh  !  story  oh  ! 
"  Every  gentleman  now  is  a  whig,''  says  he, 
•'  And  each  devil  must  dance  the  new  jig,"  says  he ; 
"And  Russell  and  Grey 
Are  the  men  of  the  day "  ' 

"  Where  did  you  get  that  infernal  doggrel  ?  "  said  Aus- 
tin, interrupting  him. 

"  My  father's  uncle's  first  cousin  singed  it  at  the  Deuk 

of  N — 's  door,  not  long  agone.    They  would  no  have 

fleered  at  the  puir  Deuk,  had  they  kenned  that  his  ain  flesh 

and  blude  would  turn  against  him.    Say  yer  say,  master." 

397 


Austin  Elliot 

"  If  you  will  let  me.  Let  us  be  serious,  Gil.  Will  you 
come  with  me  to  Canada .''  " 

"  Hey  ?  " 

"  To  Canada." 

*'  Aye,  to  the  world's  end.    But  there  before  all  places." 

"  There  is  a  most  brilliant  career  before  us  both  there. 
I  must  not  stay  in  England.  If,  after  what  has  happened 
(I  speak  to  you  as  the  only  friend  I  have  in  the  world,  Gil, 
and  the  best,  save  one,  I  ever  had)  :  if,  after  what  has 
happened,  I  should  stay  in  England,  I  must  get  thrown 
against  some  one,  and  that  would  end  in  dishonour.  Let 
us  come  to  Canada  :  are  you  willing  ?  " 

He  looked  at  Gil's  face,  and  saw  that  he  need  not  have 
asked  the  question.  Gil's  face  was  radiant.  He  mur- 
mured — 

'•  Sawmon,  and  park  deer,  and  muckle  red  deer,  called 
wapiti,  whilk  they  misname  Elk  ;  and  real  elk,  whilk  they 
misname  Moose  ;  and  a  rink  at  the  curling  in  winter  time ; 
and  corn  land  five  shilling  the  acre.  And  he  asks  me, 
will  I  go  .^  " 

"  I  see  you  are  willing.  Let  us  go.  Let  us  take  that 
poor  convict  Goatley  with  us.  Let  us  try  to  do  some- 
thing for  him.  Who  knows  what  his  opportunities  have 
been,  Gil  ?     Do  you  agree  about  that }  " 

"  God's  wrath  should  light  on  us  if  we  left  him  behind. 
Poor  creature  !  There  is  good  in  him  somewhere,  or  he'd 
no  have  stuck  by  you  and  the  governor  the  day  before 
yesterday.  Canada,  quoth  he.  And  you  with  your  wealth 
there.  Think  of  the  poor  starving  Ronaldsay  folk,  mas- 
ter :  think  how  leal,  and  trusty,  and  quiet  they  have  been 
through  this  horrible  winter.  It  is  no  business  of  yours," 
continued  Gil,  laying  his  hands  on  Austin's  shoulders, 
"  but,  for  my  sake,  and  it's  the  only  favour  I'll  ever  ask  ; 
help  some  of  them  over.  I'll  go  bail  that,  in  mere  money, 
they  will  pay  every  farthing  of  which  you  advance ;  but 
that  is  only  insulting  you.  Vou  know  what  a  grand  work 
is  before  you.  I  see  you  know  that." 
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Austin  Elliot 

"  I  do,  Gil ;  and,  please  God,  I  will  do  it.  Is  there  n( 
nobler  work  than  griming*my  hands  with  rust  and  oiU  hey  i 
Is  mechanical  work  the  highest  or  the  lowest  kind  ot  work 
hey  ?  Would  you  have  me  cast  aside  all  my  education 
and  set  to  work  cleaning  gun-barrels,  hey  ?  How  no.v 
old  man  ?  " 

"  I  was  wrong ;  and  wealth,  in  a  good  man's  hands,  \i 
one  of  God's  greatest  blessings.  I  had  a  fancy,  that  yoi 
and  I  might  have  gone  through  the  world  together,  ai 
equals.  And  the  fancy  was  dear  to  me,  I'm  no  denying 
But  it  is  gone ;  you  have  nobler  work  in  hand  than  gun 
cleaning." 

So  he  had.  Austin  had  a  grand  life's  work  before  him 
and  he  did  that  work  gloriously  well.  But  neither  he  no 
Gil  knew  where  his  life's  work  lay,  at  this  time.  It  did  no 
lie  in  Canada,  but  in  a  far  different  place. 

"  Gil,"  said  Austin,  "  we  will  go  through  the  world  a; 
friends  and  equals,  though  you  may  choose  to  call  m 
master.  We  will  go  to  Canada,  and  Mr.  Monroe  sha! 
send  us  over  the  Ronaldsay  folks,  and  we  will  call  th 
estate  Ronaldsay.  But  I  have  something  to  do  first, 
shall  have  to  go  abroad.  I  must  start  to-morrow  ;  I  can 
not  leave  England  before  I  have  done  something.  I  mus 
see  Lord  Edward  Barty,  and  also,  if  it  be  possible,  th 
Duchess  of  Cheshire.    By  the  bye,  where  is  Robin  .'*  " 

Gil  pursed  up  his  mouth  as  if  he  was  going  to  whistle 
and  said  — 

"  It  was  no  my  fault." 

"  Is  he  dead  ?  "  said  Austin,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  No,  he's  no  deid." 

"  Is  he  lost  ?  " 

"  No,  he's  no  lost  either.  It  was  no  my  fault ;  a  do| 
who  will  to  Cupar,  maun  to  Cupar.  I  whistled  till  my  ee 
danced  in  my  held,  and  I  cried,  *  Here  !  lad,  here  !  Th 
cow's  in  the  potatoes !  *  But  he'd  no  listen.  He  kep 
leaping  up  on  her  braw  grey  silk  gown,  and  she  kept  bend 
ing  down  to  him,  and  saying  — '  Robin  !  Robin  !  my  ow 
299 


Austin  Elliot 

darling  Robin !  *  till  it  would  have  garred  ye  greet,  sir,  to 
hear  her.  And  he  caught  sight  of  Lord  John  Russell's 
grey  cat  (it  was  in  Chesham  Place,  ye  ken)  and  hunted  it 
into  his  lordship's  ain  area,  and  ran  between  his  lordship's 
legs,  as  he  was  approaching  his  ain  door,  and  misbehaved 
Hke  any  Tory ;  and  so  he  went  with  her,  round  the  end  of 
the  railings,  and  into  her  house  with  her,  and  the  door  was 
shut." 

"  With  her !  —  with  whom  ?  " 

*♦  With  Miss  Hilton." 

"  Is  she  in  London  ?  " 

*•  I  dinna  ken.  She  was  twa  days  ago.  But  with  these 
here-to-day  and  gone-to-morrow  railways,  a  body  must  be 
cautious  in  speaking." 


Chapter  XXXIX 

So  she  was  safe  in  London  ;  that  was  something  off  his 
mind.  He  gave  Gil  long  instructions  to  try  and  get  hold 
of  old  James,  and  to  cross-question  him  (a  hopeful  plan), 
but  Gil  was  not  required  to  act.  A  note  came  from  Elea- 
nor the  very  next  morning :  — 

"  Dear  Austin, 

"  I  sent  James  to  the  prison  yesterday,  and  he 
brought  back  the  news  that  you  were  free.  Is  this  to  con- 
tinue ?    Are  we  never  to  see  one  another  again  ?  " 

He  replied  promptly,  and  at  once  :  — 

"  Dearest  Eleanor, 

*'  It  is  impossible,  considering   everything,  that  I 
should  ever  meet  you,  or  Edward  Barty,  again.     Our  eter- 
nal and  final  parting  must  come  soon  ;  it  is  better  that  we 
should  not  make  it  more  bitter  by  another  meeting." 
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Austin  Elliot 

This  letter  was  despatched,  and,  of  course,  there  was  no 
answer  to  it. 

Eleanor  wept  bitterly  and  wildly  over  it,  but  she  saw  no 
remedy.  She  said  that  misfortune  had  soured  Austin's 
noble  nature ;  that  he  was  not  himself.  She  must  get 
speech  with  him ;  there  must  be  something  unexplained. 
In  an  evil  moment  she  read  the  two  letters  to  Lord 
Edward  Barty. 

He  was  furiously  angry ;  he  made  her  a  scene  about  the 
matter.  He  said  that  Austin's  wrong-headed,  obstinate 
pride  was  below  contempt.  He,  after  all,  had  suffered  no 
more  than  the  rest  of  them  ;  and  here  was  he,  in  his  in- 
sane vanity,  refusing  to  answer  their  most  affectionate  let- 
ters, until  he  was  out  of  prison,  and  then  sending  such  an 
answer  as  that !  "  I  tell  you,  Eleanor,"  he  said, "  that  if  we 
want  to  get  our  own  dear  Austin  back  to  us,  we  must  let 
him  go  at  present.  He  will  come  to  us  in  the  end,  my 
dear  creature,  but  we  must  show  him  that  we  are  angry 
now.  We  have  sacrificed  everything  to  him,  and  he  treats 
us  like  this.     It  is  monstrous." 

"  Lord  Edward,"  said  Eleanor,  "  Austin  has  been  de- 
ceived." 

"  By  whom  ?  " 

"  By  me.  I  have  deceived  him.  He  has  found  it  out, 
and  he  distrusts  me." 

"  Deceived  him !  —  about  what  ?  " 

"  Never  mind.  I  did  it,  as  I  thought,  for  the  best.  I 
fear  he  has  great  cause  of  complaint  against  me." 

"  Fiddlededee  !  I  won't  ask  any  questions,  because  I 
know  something  about  your  family  history ;  but  take  a 
blind  fool's  advice  —  don't  run  after  him.  Let  him  come 
to  you.  He  w///  come,  Eleanor.  Let  Azm  come,  and 
make  his  explanation.  Wait  until  /le  is  thrown  against 
you,  as  he  must  be  in  a  week  or  so.  Come  now  ;  trust  me 
you  will  find  yourself  the  more  hereafter." 

"  But,  if  I  were  never  to  see  him  again." 

"  Pish !  The  very  fact  of  your  having  his  dog  with  you, 
301 


Austin  Elliot 

will  bring  on  some  sort  of  communication.  Leave  things 
to  time,  Eleanor ;  he  will  come  back  to  us,  when  he  is 
tired  of  isolation." 

This  would  have  been  most  excellent  advice,  had  it  not 
been  for  this :  that  Austin  was  just  now  making  every 
preparation  for  the  start  to  Canada,  and  that  the  getting 
no  answer  to  his  last  note  hurried  his  movements. 

"  It  is  all  for  the  best,"  he  said,  "  she  is  right  not  to  an- 
swer. She  is  wise ;  it  is  my  fault.  She  deceived  me 
shamefully  ;  and  she  knows  it ;  she  does  not  know  that  I 
love  her,  better  than  ever ;  my  honour,  as  a  man,  would  be 
tarnished,  if  I  made  her  any  further  advances.  I  wish  to 
God  that  her  nine  thousand  a-year  was  gone  to  the  devil. 
I  wish  she  was  penniless  ;  in  that  case  I  would  go  to  her 
to-morrow.  But  she  deceived  me,  and  she  has  nine  thou- 
sand a-year  ;  and  the  whole  thing  is  impossible." 

So  the  Canadian  preparations  went  on,  and  Austin  and 
Goatley  took  a  lodging  in  the  Commercial  Road,  to  be 
near  the  docks,  and  to  see  after  the  shipping  of  their  "  no- 
tions." 

Gil  deserted  the  gun  trade,  and  came  with  them,  after  a 
week.  They  were  very  busy.  Austin  was  making  great 
preparations  ;  he  was  going  to  buy  a  great  tract  of  land  in 
Canada,  and  to  introduce  a  new  system  of  husbandry.  He 
was  not  in  the  least  aware  that  all  kinds  of  agricultural 
implements  might  be  bought  in  Massachusetts  and  Con- 
necticut, cheaper  than  in  London.  So  he  bought  away ; 
bought  implements  from  Deane  and  Dray,  to  the  tune  of 
hundreds ;  which  implements  were  the  best  in  the  world  : 
for  English  use  :  bought,  for  instance,  two  or  three  broad- 
wheeled  carts  with  Crosskill's  axles,  eminently  adapted  for 
macadamised  roads,  but  hardly  for  the  backwoods;  and 
so  on.     But  he  was  very  busy,  which  was  something. 

One  night,  sitting  gloomily  in  his  lodging,  in  the  Com- 
mercial Road,  after  having  been  on  board  the  ship  all  day, 
he  thought  of  his  dog  Robin  ;  and  a  desire  arose  in  him, 
to  have  that  dog  back  again.  The  dog  was  with  Eleanor, 
302 


Austin  Elliot 

and  he  determined  to  go  after  it  the  next  day.  He  did  go 
after  it,  and  he  got  it ;  and  in  this  adventure,  he,  as  nearly 
as  possible,  met  Eleanor  herself  face  to  face. 

He  did  not  meet  her ;  but  if  he  had,  they  would  have 
explained  everything  to  one  another ;  even  that  dreadful 
circumstance,  which  rankled  in  Austin's  heart  deeper  than 
all :  —  his  finding  her  walking  with  Captain  Hertford,  in 
Millbank.  This  was  the  fact,  which  made  him  so  obsti- 
nate with  her.  He  could  have  forgiven  her  desertion  of 
him,  he  could  have  forgiven  every  thing  but  her  deceit, 
and  his  discovery  of  it. 

So  he  went  for  his  dog.  He  watched  at  the  end  of  the 
railings  in  Wilton  Crescent,  and  he  saw  her  come  out. 
The  dog  was  not  with  her.  She  was  going  to  church.  He 
waited  patiently  till  she  came  back,  and  still  he  waited 
on. 

By-and-by,  after  more  than  an  hour,  the  little  grey  fig- 
ure came  out  again.  Ah,  Lord  !  How  Austin  loved  her. 
Why  did  he  not  go  up  to  her,  and  speak  ?  Because  the 
jealous  devil,  which  he  had  made  believe  to  banish,  was 
holding  high  court  in  his  heart. 

Robin  was  with  her  now  ;  he  came  out  of  the  door  like 
a  thunderbolt.  There  were  five  sparrows  in  the  middle  of 
the  road,  at  dinner.  Robin  would  have  nothing  of  that 
sort ;  he  sent  them  flying  up  into  the  lilac  trees  and  chim- 
ney pots,  for  their  bare  lives,  and  then  he  danced,  barking, 
round  Eleanor. 

Eleanor  was  walking  towards  St.  Paul's  Church,  proba- 
bly going  to  Westerton's.  Austin  was  standing  behind 
the  corner  of  the  railings,  at  the  south-west  corner  of  the 
Crescent.  He  saw  that  the  dog  was  going  with  her  the 
other  way,  and  he  whistled  shrill  and  sharp.  "  I  wonder 
if  she  will  know  my  whistle,"  said  Austin. 

She  did  not,  but  the  dog  did.  He  paused,  with  one  ear 
up,  and  the  other  down ;  and  his  head  on  one  side.  Aus- 
tin whistled  once  more.  This  time,  Robin  came  rushing 
towards  him,  like  a  race-horse ;  and  left  Eleanor  calling 
303 


Austin  Elliot 

••  Robin  !  Robin  !  you  naughty  dog,  Robin,  come  here, 
sir ! " 

When  Austin  saw  that  the  dog  was  on  his  trail,  and 
that  Eleanor  had  not  recognised  him,  he  ran  round  into 
Motcomb  Street.  An  instant  after,  Robin  came  tearing 
round,  on  the  grand  circle-sailing  principle  ;  (that  is  to 
say,  that  a  circle  is  a  circle  :  and  that  the  nearest  way  from 
one  place  to  another,  is  a  straight  line  drawn  between 
them ;)  combined  with  that  of  circular  storms,  which  is, 
that  you  go  one- fifth  per  cent,  to  leeward  for  every  revo- 
lution. He,  Robin,  sailed  on  these  principles,  but  violated 
both.  The  first,  because  he  assumed  himself  to  be  sailing 
on  a  convex  surface,  instead  of  (as  was  the  case)  practical- 
ly a  plane.  The  second,  because  he  did  not  allow  suffi- 
cient latitude  for  his  progressive  momentum.  The  combi- 
nation of  these  two  errors,  acting  together,  caused  him  to 
make  too  wide  a  circle  in  coming  round  the  corner,  and  to 
bring  himself  against  what  we  may  be  allowed  to  call,  the 
leeward  area  railings  of  Motcomb  Street,  and  to  give  a 
short  howl,  at  having  bruised  himself  against  them ;  which 
last  fact,  would  be  better  theorized  on  by  Dr.  Brown,  than 
by  either  Maury  or  Reid. 

By  the  time  that  Robin  had  picked  himself  up,  Austin 
was  at  the  end  of  the  street.  He  whistled  again,  and 
Robin  came  tearing  on  once  more.  Austin  stepped  round 
the  corner,  into  Lowndes-street,  and  waited  ;  he  was  safe 
here.  Robin  found  him  by  Gunter's  shop,  and  leaped  up, 
frantically  yelping  in  the  madness  of  his  joy ;  and  Austin, 
then  and  there,  the  street  being  empty  or  nearly  so,  took 
Robin  to  his  bosom,  and  hugged  him. 

"  You  never  see  such  a  queer  start  in  your  life,"  said 
one  of  the  young  men  at  Gunter's,  to  one  of  the  young 
ladies  at  Miller's  (to  whom  he  was  engaged)  that  evening. 
"  /  know  him,  and  all  the  whole  business  ;  how  he  was  m 
prison,  and  all  that.  And  I  see  him  come  cutting  round 
the  corner  like  a  lunatic,  and  I  says,  '  He's  broke  out,  and 
the  police  is  after  him .' '  And  I  run  out  to  see  if  I  could 
304 


Austin  Elliot 

get  him  through  the  shop,  or  upstairs,  or  anythink.  And 
then  I  seen  him  hugging  of  his  dog  to  his  bosom.  And 
well  I  knew  the  dog.  He  used  to  come  into  our  place 
with  the  whole  lot  on  'em  ;  Lord  Charles,  poor  fellow,  and 
Mr.  Austin,  and  the  blind  one,  and  Miss  Hilton,  from 
number  fifteen  ;  and  he  used  to  chivy  the  cat  into  the  win- 
dow among  the  bon  bons,  and  play  the  deuce  and  all. 
And  one  day  he  upset  the  table  with  Lady  Dumbledore's 
wedding-cake  on  it,  and  then  there  was  the  dickens  to  pay. 
/  never  see  such  a  dog." 

"  And  so  poor  Mr.  Elliot  was  glad  to  get  his  dog  back 
again,"  said  the  young  lady  from  Miller's. 

"  He  was  so,  poor  gentleman  ;  you  never  see  anything 
like  it.  Here  he  stood,  as  it  might  be  me,  and  there  was 
the  dog,  as  it  might  be  you,  and  he  catches  the  dog  to  his 
bosom  —  " 

And  the  young  man  from  Gunter's  immediately  received 
two  sound  boxes  on  the  ear,  as  a  caution  that  prose  narra- 
tive must  not  be  assisted  by  dramatic  action. 

The  Canadian  preparations  went  briskly  on.  Gil  worked 
like  fifty  Gils  ;  and  Austin,  partly  in  the  novelty  of  feeling 
free  again,  and  partly  to  extinguish  thought,  worked  as 
hard  as  he. 

He  would  not  think  :  he  would  not  pause.  His  resolu- 
tion had  been  taken  when  his  head  was  cool,  and  must  be 
acted  on  now  :  so  he  was  intensely  busy. 

Goatley,  the  convict,  worked  as  well  as  he  could,  but 
that  was  not  very  well.  He  had  a  careless,  sleepy  way  of 
doing  things,  which  provoked  Gil  very  much.  He  never 
let  Goatley  see  that  he  was  provoked ;  for  Goatley  was  a 
kind  of  sacred  person  to  Gil.  He  was  an  unaccountable 
being,  and  he  had  played  the  man  at  the  right  time.  Gil 
was  kind  to  him. 

Austin  kept  him  near  him  continually;  for  he  was 
afraid  of  his  meeting  some  old  companion,  and  getting 
into  trouble ;  but  Austin  hoped  to  keep  him  straight  till 
305 


Austin  Elliot 

they  got  to  Canada.  He  was  an  odd,  wayward,  unac- 
countable creature.  He  never  gave  Austin  much  account 
of  himself,  that  Austin  could  rely  on.  If  Austin  pressed 
him  too  much,  he  became  vacant  and  irritable  ;  if  further, 
a  kind  of  dumb  sulky  devil  would  take  possession  of  him, 
and  he  would  hardly  answer  at  all,  or  only  in  the  most 
transparent  lies,  which  he  could  see  irritated  Austin. 

He  at  ordinary  times  spoke  but  little.  Sometimes  he 
would,  after  a  long  silence,  break  out  with  an  abrupt  ques- 
tion.    After  sitting  a  long  while  one  day,  he  broke  out, 

"  If  I  was  in  your  place  I  should  take  out  a  large  quan- 
tity of  potatoes.  May-be,  they  haven't  got  the  same  sorts 
there." 

There  was  nothing  more  in  this  than  the  mere  silliness 
of  an  utterly  ignorant  person.  But  there  was  a  great  deal 
more  in  the  way  in  which,  after  he  had  once  started  this 
notion,  he  ran  it  to  the  death.  He  got  it  into  his  head 
that  there  was  something  in  it ;  and  walking  about  the 
Commercial-road  with  Austin,  he  was  continually  stopping 
him  at  every  potato  shop,  and  making  inquiries  about  ash- 
leafed  kidneys,  and  regents,  and  so  on.  He  was  fully  per- 
suaded that  he  would  make  his  fortune  in  Canada,  by  tak- 
ing over  new  sorts  of  potatoes.  Austin  told  Gil  that  the 
poor  fellow  seemed  mad  on  the  subject.     Gil  replied, 

"  A  good  thing,  too.  He  had  better  go  mad  on  one 
single  subject.  Mad  he  is,  and  will  be.  He  had  better 
gang  mad  on  ane  point,  than  on  a  dizzen." 

"  Do  you  think  he  will  go  mad,  Gil  ?  "  said  Austin. 

"  Deil  doubt  it !  A'  this  leeing,  and  this  talking  so  and 
so,  shows  that  his  brain  is  softening.  It  will  end  in 
general  paralysis  ;  a  slight  dropping  of  the  lower  jaw,  com- 
bined with  occasional  violence." 

"  Who  told  you  that  ?  " 

"  Naebody.  I  just,  thinking  about  the  young  man,  ran 
my  eye  over  Dr.  Tuke's  book  the  ither  night.  I'm  no 
agreeing  with  the  doctor  in  all  things,  but  he  has  muckle 
experience." 

3o5 


Austin  Elliot 

Since  Austin  had  taken  his  degree,  he  had  confined  his 
reading  to  the  newspapers.     He  changed  the  subject. 

One  day,  when  all  things  were  nearly  ready,  and  Austin 
had  come  to  be  as  well  known  on  board  the  good  ship 
Amphion  as  the  skipper  himself ;  he  took  Goatley  with 
him,  to  help  him  in  stowing  some  packages.  They  worked 
together  all  the  morning.  When,  at  noon,  they  came  out 
on  the  wharf  again,  Goatley  said  suddenly,  — 

"  I  am  going  away  from  you  to-morrow." 

*'  Whither  ?  "  said  Austin. 

"  To  a  public-house.  To  the  *  Black  Bull,'  in  the  Com- 
mercial-road.    I  have  business  there." 

"  You  will  come  to  me  in  the  evening,"  said  Austin, 
**  for  you  will  not  sleep  away  from  your  lodgings.  I  am 
so  fearful  of  your  getting  among  your  old  companions,  my 
poor  fellow." 

"  Is  that  why  you  watch  me  so  ?  "  said  Goatley. 

"  Yes,  that  is  the  reason,"  said  Austin;  "you  are  so 
weak  and  foolish,  my  poor  lad.  I  think  how  much  I  owe 
you,  and  think  how  anxious  I  am  to  give  you  a  new 
start  in  life,  without  temptation.  I  do  watch  you,  and  I 
will." 

*•  Very  well,"  said  Goatley,  "  you  are  quite  right.  But 
you  need  not  watch  me  to-morrow,  I  am  going  to  see  a 
relation,  the  only  relation  I  have,  who  is  coming  to  wish 
me  good-bye." 

"  You  never  told  me  that  you  had  any  relations,"  said 
Austin. 

"  I  daresay  not,"  said  Goatley,  sulkily,  "  but  I  have. 
And  one  of  them  is  coming  to  bid  me  good-bye  to-morrow." 

"  One  of  them  ?  "  said  Austin.  "  You  said  there  was 
only  one  just  now." 

"  Never  you  mind  what  I  said  ;  you've  often  called  me 
a  liar.  Don't  you  ask  any  questions,  may-be  I  won't  tell 
you  any  lies." 

Austin  knew  enough  of  his  man  to  let  the  subject  drop. 
At  noon  the  next  day,  Goatley  left  the  ship)  and  Austin. 
307 


Austin  Elliot 

going  the  same  way,  saw  him  walking  rapidly  up  the  Com- 
mercial-road. 

"  It  would  be  mere  charity  to  follow  him,"  thought  he ; 
"  I  think  I  had  better  follow  him.  1  do  not  like  to  trust 
him.     Robin !  Robin  !  " 

It  was  time  to  call  "  Robin  !  Robin  !  "  A  marine-store- 
keeper's cat  had  been  over  to  visit  a  puffing  grocer's  cat 
opposite,  and  was  picking  her  way  homewards,  across  the 
muddy  street.  Robin  ran  after  her.  She,  like  an  idiot, 
ran  away,  and  Robin,  by  the  law  of  gravity,  or  some 
similar  law,  bolted  after  her.  The  cat,  not  being  able  to 
make  her  own  port  on  the  present  tack,  in  consequence  of 
the  enemy  being  to  windward  of  her,  put  her  helm  down, 
altered  her  course  four  points,  and  made  all  sail  for  the 
nearest  harbour  to  leeward,  which  was  the  pigeon-fancier's ; 
and  Robin,  disregarding  the  law  of  nations,  made  a  perfect 
Wilkes  of  himself,  and  chased  her  right  into  the  neutral 
harbour,  overturning  a  cage  containing  five-and-twenty 
"  blue  rocks  "  in  his  career,  and  at  last  succeeded  in  forc- 
ing an  engagement  in  the  pigeon-fancier's  back-parlour, 
under  his  table. 

Here  he  found  himself  under  the  guns  of  several  neutral 
batteries,  which  opened  fire  on  him  and  the  cat,  with  per- 
fect impartiality.  The  cat  bolted  up  the  chimney;  but 
Robin,  as  in  duty  bound,  returned  the  fire  of  the  neutral 
batteries  —  that  is  to  say,  setting  our  figure  aside,  that  the 
pigeon-fancier  and  his  wife  (who  were  at  dinner)  tried  to 
kick  him  out,  and  that  he  showed  fight,  and  snapped  at 
their  legs. 

At  this  moment,  when  war  seemed  inevitable,  diplomacy 
stepped  in,  in  the  person  of  Austin.  Robin  was  rebuked. 
The  affair  was  gone  calmly  into.  Apologies  were  given 
on  the  one  side,  and  frankly  received  on  the  other ;  and 
the  whole  thing  was  comfortably  settled.  Then  Austin 
walked  away  up  the  Commercial-road  with  Robin,  laugh- 
ing, with  no  more  notion  of  what  was  going  to  happen  to 
him  than  has  the  reader,  perhaps  not  so  much. 
308 


Austin  Elliot 

He  went  into  the  "  Black  Bull."  He  asked  the  landlord 
whether  a  young  man  had  come  in  just  now.  The  land- 
lord said  what  sort  of  a  young  man,  and  Austin  described 
Goatley. 

"  What,  Browning  ?  "  said  the  landlord.  Austin  had 
never  heard  of  him  by  that  name,  but  felt  sure  of  his  man, 
because  the  landlord  had  recognized  him  from  his  de- 
scription. The  reader  will  most  probably  not  remember, 
that  this  was  the  name  given  by  the  Secretary  of  State 
to  the  convict  Goatley. 

Austin  said  "  Yes,"  feeling  sure  of  his  man.  The  land- 
lord said  that  he  was  there ;  that  he  was  going  to  Canada, 
and  that  one  of  his  relations  had  come  to  bid  him  good- 
bye ;  they  were  in  an  inner  parlour  now. 

Austin  was  glad  to  find  that  Goatley  had  not  deceived 
him.  He  told  the  landlord  that  he  would  go  inside,  and 
take  a  glass  of  ale  and  a  biscuit,  and  wait  for  the  young 
man. 

So  mine  host  showed  him  into  a  rambling  old  room  on 
one  side  of  a  passage,  with  some  fifty  angles  in  it.  There 
was  a  bagatelle-board  there,  and  Austin  ate  his  biscuit  and 
sipped  his  ale,  and  knocked  the  balls  about.  Robin  had 
some  biscuit,  and  lay  down  on  the  hearthrug. 

Austin  began  to  be  aware  that  there  were  voices  talking 
low  in  another  room  —  in  the  room  on  the  other  side  of 
the  passage.  Robin  became  aware  of  it  too,  and  began  to 
be  naughty. 

At  first  he  only  put  his  nose  against  the  door  and 
whined.  Austin  went  on  knocking  the  bagatelle-balls 
about,  and  making  the  most  wonderful  strokes.  He  got 
petulant  with  Robin,  and  ordered  him  to  lie  down ;  but 
Robin  would  not ;  he  reared  himself  up  against  the  door 
and  scratched  at  it. 

Austin  made  a  beautiful  stroke  :  there  never  was  such 

a  stroke.     Some  of  these  bagatelle-boards  were  very  good. 

He  was  placing  the  balls  to  see  if  he  could  do  it  again, 

when  Robin  reared  up  against  the  door,  and  began  barking. 

309 


Austin  Elliot 

Austin  hit  him  a  tap  with  the  cue.  But  it  was  no  use  : 
the  dog  was  mad.  He  did  not  mind  the  blow.  He  began 
barking  furiously,  and  tearing  at  the  door  with  his  teeth. 

Austin  d d  him,  and  opened  the  door  for  him.     The 

dog  dashed  across  the  passage,  and  threw  himself  against 
a  door  on  the  other  side,  which  burst  open.  Austin  fol- 
lowed to  apologise. 

Only  two  steps.  There  he  stood  like  a  stone  image  in 
the  squalid  passage,  with  the  billiard-cue  in  his  hand. 

He  saw  a  public-house  parlour  before  him,  and  a  dirty 
table,  and  a  picture  of  the  Queen,  and  a  horse-hair  sofa. 
And  on  that  sofa  sat  Eleanor  Hilton,  and  beside  her  the 
convict  Goatley.  The  convict  had  his  arm  round  Eleanor's 
waist,  and  Eleanor  was  tenderly  smoothing  his  close- 
cropped  hair  with  her  hand. 

He  was  amazed  for  one  instant  —  only  for  one.  When 
Goatley  turned  his  head  towards  him,  attracted  by  the 
sudden  entrance  of  Robin,  Austin  saw  it  all.  Now  he  un- 
derstood Eleanor's  mysterious  pilgrimages  ;  now  he  knew 
her  secret ;  now  he  knew  why  he  had  found  her  walking 
with  Captain  Hertford  on  the  1 5th  of  May ;  now  he  knew 
why  he  had  thought  himself  mad  when  he  had  first  seen 
this  man  in  prison.  All  the  truth  came  to  him  suddenly 
like  a  blaze  of  lightning  on  a  dark  night ;  when  Goatley 
turned  his  face  towards  him,  and  he  saw  it  beside  Eleanor's, 
he  understood  everything.  This  Goatley,  this  convict,  was 
Robert  Hilton  —  the  thief  at  school,  the  swindler  in  the 
army,  the  forger  of  Lord  Mewstone's  name.  It  was  Rob- 
ert Hilton,  Eleanor's  own  brother.  And  he  dropped  the 
billiard-cue,  and  cried  out  like  a  strong  man  in  pain, "  Elea- 
nor !  Eleanor !  I  see  it  all.  Can  you  forgive  me  ?  can  you 
ever  forgive  me  ?  " 


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Austin  Elliot 


Chapter  XL 

There  was  no  great  need  of  explanations  after  this ;  for 
there  was  but  little  to  be  explained.  In  the  happy  peace 
which  he  felt  in  having  her  beside  him  once  more,  he  never 
thought  of  asking  her,  why  she  had  deserted  him.  That 
had  been  the  thing  which  had  angered  him  more  than  any ; 
but  it  was  nothing  now.  She  had  run  into  his  arms  with 
a  low  glad  cry  when  she  had  seen  him  ;  and  he  was  sitting 
with  her,  with  her  hand  in  his.  He  was  listening  to  her 
dear,  dear,  voice  again.  Explanation  !  —  one  half  of  her 
conduct  had  been  explained ;  if  she  could  not  explain  the 
other  —  why  then  —  what  mattered  it.  He  had  got  her 
back  again,  what  cared  he  for  explanations. 

She  opened  the  question.  "  Why  did  you  never  answer 
my  letters,  dear  Austin  ?  " 

"  Your  letters,  faithless  woman !  why  did  you  never 
write  to  me  ?  " 

"  Edward  Barty  and  I  wrote  to  you,  until  hope  was 
dead,  Austin.  Did  they  all  arrive  during  your  fever  ?  The 
governor  has  not  dared  to  suppress  them." 

"  The  governor  dare  do  a  great  many  things,  Eleanor. 
He  dared  to  run  unarmed  among  eight  hundred  outcasts 
for  instance.  I  don't  know  whether  he  dare  suppress  my 
letters ;  but  I  know  that  he  would  not,  if  he  dare." 

They  were  much  too  happy  to  think  about  the  mystery. 
They  found  it  all  out  afterwards.  Aunt  Maria's  maid  con- 
fessed everything  when  taxed  with  it,  and  threw  herself  on 
the  ground  and  prayed  for  forgiveness,  let  her  hair  down, 
kicked  her  shoes  off,  made  them  a  lady's  maid  scene  about 
it ;  and  being  forgiven,  was  carried  off  whooping  and  plung- 
ing, and  holding  on  tight  by  everything  she  could  get  hold 
of.  And  after  her  departure,  when  old  James  came  back 
into  the  room  to  pick  up  her  shoes  and  her  hair  pins,  and 
so  on ;  he  looked  very  much  ashamed  of  himself,  and 

3" 


Austin  Elliot 

confessed  that  she,  meaning  poor  Aunt  Maria,  had  been 
"  too  many  for  him." 

Robert's  statement  was  this,  as  far  as  they  could  trust 
it.  He  said  that  when  he  ran  off  to  Namur  (he  would  not 
go  into  particulars),  Captain  Hertford  followed  him.  That 
he  told  a  friend  of  his  (Robert  Hilton's)  to  spread  a  report 
of  his  suicide.  That  his  friend  met  Captain  Hertford  and 
told  him.  That  Captain  Hertford  had  without  making  any 
further  inquiries  returned  to  Brussels.  And  also  that  Cap- 
tain Hertford  was  uncommon  glad  not  to  see  him  (Robert 
Hilton)  in  the  dock. 

This  was  all  Austin  ever  got  out  of  him :  from  this  he 
formed  the  theory,  that  there  was  something  "  queer,"  some 
gambling  transaction,  or  something  of  that  sort,  between 
Robert  Hilton  and  Captain  Hertford.  He  never  proved  it, 
and  poor  Hilton  getting  more  stupid  every  day,  now  never 
told  him ;  but  he  thought  that  it  was  the  case.  Another 
thing  which  puzzled  Austin  was  this,  did  Captain  Hertford 
ever  really  believe  that  Robert  Hilton  was  dead.-*  That 
puzzle  was  never  solved  either. 

Eleanor's  statement  was  this  :  Captain  Hertford  had  re- 
turned from  abroad  and  brought  the  news  of  her  brother's 
death  at  Namur.  Aunt  Maria  introduced  him  as  an  old 
friend.  She  had  seen  him  a  good  deal  from  that  time 
(summer  of  1844)  until  October,  1845.  Then  one  day  he 
came  and  told  them  not  only  that  her  brother  was  alive, 
but  that  he  was  in  Millbank  for  swindling.  That  Lord 
Mewstone  was  a  most  vindictive  man,  and  that  the  secret 
of  Robert  Hilton's  existence  should  be  kept  from  him.  He 
was  very  vindictive  about  that  forgery  for  instance. 

Eleanor  and  Austin,  when  they  came  to  think  about  it, 
were  of  opinion  that  Captain  Hertford  was  very  anxious 
that  Robert  Hilton  should  not  appear  in  the  dock  in  the 
matter  of  the  Mewstone  forgery.  They  may  have  done 
him  an  injustice,  they  never  made  out  anything  clearly 
against  him  here. 

Eleanor,  hearing  this  terrible  news,  determined  that  her 
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Austin  Elliot 

brother  should  be  free  and  out  of  the  way,  before  she  con- 
sented to  marry  Austin.  It  would  have  been  such  a  death- 
blow to  all  his  high  hopes,  to  marry  a  convict's  sister.  She 
kept  the  secret  from  him  out  of  mere  love  and  considera- 
tion for  him.  No  one  knew  the  secret  but  Aunt  Maria, 
Eleanor,  old  James,  and  Captain  Hertford.  She  used  to 
go  and  visit  the  poor  fellow  once  a  month,  on  the  fifteenth 
of  each  month ;  and  Hertford,  who  seems  to  have  pitied 
her  at  one  time,  sometimes  went ;  it  was  on  returning  from 
one  of  these  expeditions  that  Austin  met  her,  holding  Cap- 
tain Hertford's  arm. 

Yes,  everything  was  explained.  The  black  cloud  had 
passed  suddenly,  and  beyond  lay  the  prospect  of  the  future, 
glorious  and  golden ;  peaceful  beneath  the  calm  summer 
sun. 


Chapter  XLl 

When  Austin  left  Ronaldsayin  May,  1845,  the  potatoes 
were  just  coming  out  of  the  ground,  and  the  women  and 
children,  in  the  lengthening  spring  evenings,  were  weeding 
them,  and  opening  the  earth  between  the  rows,  and  regard- 
ing them  complacently.  The  rich  dark  green  leaves  were 
showing  handsomely  above  the  dark  ground.  It  made 
one's  heart  swell  with  thankfulness,  to  see  the  noble  prom- 
ise of  a  harvest.  The  old  wives  no  longer  knitted,  looking 
towards  the  sea,  where  the  good  man  and  brave  young 
sons  and  husbands  were  toiling  at  their  weary  fishing,  but 
they  took  their  knitting  into  the  potato  yard,  and  watched 
here  how  the  plants  came  on.  And  little  Ronald,  and  little 
Donald,  and  little  Elsie,  and  little  May,  gave  over  paddling 
at  the  pier-end,  and  came  home  and  weeded  the  potatoes, 
and  made  believe  that  they  were  sorting  the  lilies  and  roses 
in  the  MacTavish's  grand  garden,  at  Glen  Stora  Castle, 
away  yonder  in  Argyleshire. 

Sweet  summer  settled  down  upon  the  island.  The  old 
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Austin  Elliot 

folks  had  ease  from  their  chronic  rheumatism  ;  the  young 
men  stayed  late  on  the  quay,  and  the  young  women  stayed 
with  them.  Elspeth,  the  beauty  of  the  island,  did  not 
bring  the  cows  home  by  herself  now;  when  she  came 
down  the  glen  there  was  always  some  one  with  her : 

"  A  voice  talked  with  her  'neath  the  shadows  cool 
More  sweet  to  her  than  song." 

The  potatoes  throve  bravely.  Before  you  were  prepared 
for  it,  the  plants  were  a  foot  high,  covered  with  purple  and 
white  blossom.  And  the  children  gathered  them ;  the 
purple  ones  were  my  Leddy  MacTavish's  roses,  and  the 
white  ones  were  the  lilies  which  the  Saints  in  heaven  car- 
ried in  their  hands  before  the  Throne,  ye  ken. 

It  was  a  pleasant  summer,  and  the  potato  harvest  prom- 
ised bravely.  For  years  the  island  had  not  been  so  merry ; 
there  was  but  one  anxious  face  on  it,  and  that  was  Mr. 
Monroe's.  He  had  been  warned  of  something,  which  the 
others  knew  not  of.  Night  after  night,  he  wrestled  with 
God  in  prayer;  not  for  himself,  ah,  no!  but  for  those, 
whom  God  had  given  him.  He  prayed,  that  if  it  were 
possible  the  cup  might  pass  away ;  and  it  did  pass  away 
after  they  had  drank  of  it.  Through  the  darkest  hour  of 
it  all  the  good  man's  faith  in  God  never  wavered  for  one 
instant,  and  he  lived  to  know  how  much  wiser  God  was 
than  he. 

The  minister  had  a  trouble  on  his  mind  ;  they  could  all 
see  that.  The  older  Christians  would  have  had  him  un- 
burden his  mind  to  them,  but  he  would  not :  they  were 
content.  He  was  a  sainted  man ;  he  was  one  of  God's 
elect ;  they  were  content,  though  they  would  have  liked 
to  share  his  secret  sorrow  with  him. 

One  day  in  July,  he  went  to  see  one  of  the  oldest  of  his 
flock ;  a  very  old  woman,  with  a  very  quiet  beautiful  face  : 
a  woman  who  was  so  calmly  assured  of  her  salvation,  that 
Heaven  had  began  with  her  in  this  world.     I  talked  with 

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Austin  Elliot 

such  a  woman  in  the  West,  last  year,  and  very  awful  and 
beautiful  that  talk  was  ;  although  the  doctrines  which  she 
held,  were  as  far  apart  from  my  own,  as  the  poles. 

Mr.  Monroe  found  the  old  woman  sitting  in  the  sun, 
knitting,  and  looking  at  the  potatoes.  The  children  were 
busy  weeding  them,  all  except  baby,  who  desired  to  weed 
with  the  rest  of  them,  but  who  was  too  confused  in«his 
mind,  as  to  which  were  the  potatoes,  and  which  were  the 
weeds,  to  be  trusted.  He  had  been  accommodated  with  a 
horn  spoon,  and  a  crab's-shell  with  a  string  let  into  it, 
which  served  for  a  cart ;  and  left  to  the  care  of  the  colley 
bitch. 

"  God  save  you,  minister ! "  said  the  old  woman,  in 
Gaelic.  "  Will  this  brave  weather  not  serve  to  raise  the 
cloud  from  your  brow  ?  Am  not  I  worthy  to  share  the 
secret  trouble  which  makes  wrinkles  on  the  forehead  of 
one  whom  I  shall  wait  to  welcome  in  Heaven  ?  " 

"  Why  should  you  share  it  ?  "  said  Mr.  Monroe,  in  the 
same  language  ;  "  why  should  I  darken  the  glorious  even- 
ing of  such  a  life  as  yours,  before  the  sunset  comes  ?  I 
will  not.  For  sixty  years  you  have  known  nothing  but 
poverty  and  hard  work ;  your  husband,  your  son,  and  two 
of  your  grandsons,  have  sailed  away,  and  the  sea  has  de- 
voured them.  Shall  I  throw  a  shadow  over  the  few  days 
which  remain  between  you  and  your  rest  ?     No." 

"  There  is  a  cloud  in  the  heaven  somewhere,"  said  the 
old  woman  ;  "  your  eyes  are  younger  than  mine,  and  you 
see  it,  though  I  do  not.  It  will  burst  over  Ronaldsay,  I 
know  that  by  your  face.  Minister,  I  would  be  sorry  to 
take  my  reward  before  my  labour  was  done.  Let  me  share 
your  sorrow.  The  tide  flows  up  and  down  the  Kyle,  as  of 
old,  and  the  full  moon  floods  the  creeks  and  caves  under 
the  cape ;  Benmore  stands  firm  in  the  West.  What  is 
your  sorrow,  minister  ?  " 

*'  I  cannot  tell  you." 

"  See  the  brave  potatoes.  Raise  the  cloud  from  your 
brow,  minister,  and  look  at  them.    The  bravest  crop  for 

315 


Austin  Elliot 

years.  Raise  the  cloud  from  your  brow,  and  thank  the 
Lord  with  me.    See,  they  are  harvesting*  already." 

"  Harvesting ! " 

"  Go  and  see." 

He  went  in  among  the  potatoes.  The  children  had  done 
weeding,  and  were  making  nosegays  of  the  potato  flowers. 

** Here's  minister!  See  here,  sir,  these  ones  are  the 
French  roses  from  my  lady's  garden  at  Glenstora,  and 
these  white  ones  are  the  lilies  of  heaven.  'Tis  a  braw 
game,  minister,  is  it  no  ?  " 

Mr.  Monroe  looked  at  the  potato  halm.  The  potatoes 
were  harvesting  with  a  vengeance  :  the  leaves  w^ere  get- 
ting yellow  and  curling  up  black  at  the  edges.  He  clasped 
his  hands  together  and  said  "  Thy  will  be  done,  O  Lord  !  " 

Mr.  Monroe  had  been  warned  of  this.  He  had  hoped 
and  hoped,  and  even  now  he  continued  to  hope.  They  dug 
their  potatoes  up.  One  half  of  them  were  rotten,  the  rest 
rotted  in  the  places  where  they  were  stored  ;  "  graves,"  as 
we  call  them  in  England.  At  first  they  hoped  that  they 
might  pull  through  the  winter  and  have  seed  for  next  year. 
That  hope  soon  left  them  ;  in  the  first  week  in  November 
potatoes  were  cheaper  in  Ronaldsay  than  any  one  could 
recollect.  They  were  all  in  their  little  market  at  once. 
But  at  the  end  of  the  month,  when  the  leading  Protec- 
tionist was  trying  to  deny  the  whole  business,  there  were 
no  potatoes  whatever.    The  potato  crop  had  failed. 

I  should  like  to  meet  with  a  poet  who  would  make  that  a 
line  in  one  of  his  poems.  *'  The  potato  crop  had  failed." 
How  we  should  laugh  at  him  !  A  potato  is  ridiculous 
enough,  but  a  rotten  potato — bah ! 

All  through  November  the  south  wind  poured  steadily 
up  through  the  Kyle,  and  filled  Ronaldsay  with  mist  and 
gloom.  But  in  the  first  week  in  December,  when  the  days 
were  getting  towards  their  shortest,  the  North  wind  came 

*  Harvesting.     This  is  the  expression  we  use  in   Hampshire 
when  the  halm  of  the  potato  turns  yellow,  and  it  is  ripe.     I  do  not 
know  the  Scotch  term ;  certainly  not  the  Gaelic. 
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Austin  Elliot 

down,  drove  the  mists  away,  and  invested  the  island  with 
a  cold,  cruel,  merciless  beauty.  Under  an  inexorable 
brazen  sky,  every  crag  came  out  clear  and  sharp  as  crystal, 
every  cataract  was  turned  into  a  glacier,  every  little  spout- 
ing burn  on  the  hillside,  into  a  beautiful  ice  palace.  The 
lochs  were  frozen  three  feet  thick  ;  but  the  curling-stones 
lay  neglected  under  the  bed-place,  and  the  faded  ribands 
upon  the  handles  only  served  to  remind  the  young  men  of 
the  merry  rinks  last  year,  before  the  potatoes  rotted,  and 
left  them  all  starving. 

The  old  folks  died  first.  That  was  as  it  should  be. 
One  could  not  complain  at  that ;  one  might  envy  them, 
but  one  could  not  complain.  They  had  had  sixty  years  of 
this  sort  of  thing,  and  it  was  hard  if  they  were  not  to 
enter  into  their  rest,  before  the  misery  grew  to  its  full  head. 
The  loss  of  the  dear  old  faces  at  the  fireside  was  very  sad, 
and  the  hearts  of  those  who  were  left  behind  starving 
ached  sorely ;  but  God  had  taken  them  from  the  misery, 
which  grew  more  terrible  as  the  winter  went  on,  and  He 
knew  best. 

Then  the  children  began  to  die,  and  this  was  very  bitter 
— very,  very  hard  to  bear.  The  bonny  bare-legged  little 
things,  who  had  done  no  wrong;  who  paddled  in  the  surf, 
that  made  wreaths  of  those  infernal  potato-flowers,  and 
called  them  the  lilies  of  heaven.  This  would  not  do  to 
think  of.  To  be  locked  up  here  in  an  island  in  the  Adan- 
tic,  without  one  chance  of  making  one's  voice  heard  till  it 
was  too  late,  and  to  see  one's  own  bonny  darlings  dying 
before  one's  face  !  Hush  !  It  was  well  for  the  MacTavish 
that  these  men  were  Scotchmen,  not  Irishmen  !  It  was 
well  for  the  peace  of  the  kingdom  that  these  things  hap- 
pened in  Ronaldsay  and  Lewis,  and  not  in  Manchester 
and  Birmingham. 

'Twas  a  weary  Halloween  for  the  poor  souls.    The  men 

who  dug  the  graves  noticed  that  day  by  day  the  frost  got 

deeper  into  the  earth.     The  fishing-lines  froze  like  wires, 

the  blocks  refused  to  run,  the  sails  were  stiff  as  boards, 

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Austin  Elliot 

and  the  women  who  wearily,  with  blue  fingers,  knocked 
the  limpets  off  the  rocks,  to  save  themselves  from  star- 
vation, began  to  notice  that  even  the  salt  water  in  the  little 
pools  among  the  rocks  was  beginning  to  freeze.  And  they 
came  home  and  told  the  men,  and  the  men  lost  heart,  and 
went  no  more  a-fishing.  How  could  they  ?  Did  jyou  ever 
sit  hour  after  hour  fishing,  with  fourteen  degrees  of  frost, 
and  in  a  state  of  starvation  ?  The  men  stayed  at  home, 
and  lay  in  the  bed-places. 

And  then  ^/iey  began  to  die.  Yes  !  The  oldest  of  the 
able-bodied  men,  began  to  lie  down,  and  to  fall  asleep,  in 
a  strange  quiet  way.  Perfectly  happy,  perfectly  calm. 
They  would  lie  for  a  day  or  two,  and  at  last  give  over 
speaking.  In  the  morning  they  would  be  found  quietly 
dead,  without  the  sign  of  a  spasm  on  their  faces.  This 
is  no  novelist's  fancy  ;  the  author  has  seen  what  he  is  de- 
scribing. 

All  this  time,  the  island  lay  in  the  bright  brazen  sun- 
shine, more  beautiful  than  ever.  The  ducks  and  the 
snipes  had  fled  southward ;  the  curlew  and  the  peewit 
had  followed  them,  and  the  moor  was  silent.  But  for  the 
shadows  of  the  crags  and  corries,  which  sloped  so  long 
towards  the  north  ;  and  for  the  fantastic  glaciers  on  the 
hill  side,  which  in  summer  time  were  wimpling  burns  ;  one 
might  have  fancied,  if  one  only  used  the  sense  of  sight, 
that  it  was  spring-time ;  the  island  had  never  looked  more 
beautiful.  After  Christmas,  it  got  a  new  and  more  awful 
beauty.  The  wind  was  still  steady,  and  quiet  from  the 
north ;  but  one  day,  Gil  Macdonald  pointed  out  to  Mr. 
Monroe  and  the  MacTavish,  a  long  low  light  brown  line 
of  cloud,  which  was  backing  the  lower  summits  of  the  Ar- 
gyleshire  hills,  to  the  south-east. 

For  two  days,  the  dun  vapour  had  grown  and  spread 
until  it  had  obscured  the  sun.  When  it  had  fairly  disap- 
peared, a  broad  red  orb,  into  the  snow  cloud  ;  Gil  Mac- 
donald, said,  "  I'm  wishing  you  good  day,  old  friend,  be- 
like I'll  never  see  ye  again." 

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Austin  Elliot 

In  the  morning,  the  wind,  which  was  in  front  of  the  dull 
cloud,  begun  to  blow.  The  thermometer  rose  to  six  de- 
grees of  frost,  and  there  stayed,  and  would  come  no  high- 
er, in  spite  of  the  south-east  wind.  Then  the  edge  of  the 
cloud  reached  them,  and  the  dust  at  the  corner  of  the  little 
street  in  the  village  begun  to  grow  white  ;  and  soon  after, 
the  air  was  filled  with  straying  crystals  of  snow,  which 
rose  and  fell,  and  whirled  about,  and  was  driven  into  every 
cranny  and  corner.  And  those  who  looked  towards  Ben 
More,  saw  that  the  towering  peak  was  rapidly  growing 
from  brown  to  grey,  and  from  grey  to  silver. 

For  two  days,  the  snow  came  down  ;  and  then  the  north 
wind  came  down  once  more,  and  laid  his  deadly  icy  hand 
on  the  island.  The  sky  was  clear  again  ;  blue  over  head, 
but  a  gleaming  yellow  towards  the  horizon.  Ben  More 
towered  up  over  the  vast  sheets  of  snow,  which  covered 
the  island  ;  a  tall  peak  of  ghastly  white,  barred  with  lines 
of  purple  crag. 

The  moment  the  snow  cloud  cleared,  Mr.  Monroe 
started  Gil  Macdonald  over  the  hill,  through  the  snow, 
with  provisions  to  an  outlying  family  at  Loch  na  Craig,  on 
the  other  side  of  the  mountain.  The  wind  which  had 
come  up  with  the  snow  had  been  strong,  and  the  south- 
east side  of  the  mountain  was  pretty  bare.  Gil,  the  lion- 
hearted,  made  brave  weather  of  it  till  he  came  to  the 
shoulder  of  the  mountain,  which  overlooks  Loch  na  Craig. 
But  his  feet  went  the  swifter,  in  consequence  of  an  anxie- 
ty which  had  taken  possession  of  him. 

He  reached  the  shoulder  of  the  hill,  and  looked  over 
into  the  corrie  of  Loch  na  Craig.  Then,  he  sat  down  on 
a  rock.     He  saw  the  whole  horrible  disaster. 

The  snow,  which  they,  looking  from  the  south-east, 
from  the  windward  side  of  the  mountain,  had  seen  eddy- 
ing, and  curling,  and  fuming  before  the  wind  ;  which  they 
had  seen  blown  from  the  steep  side  of  the  mountain  near-^ 
est  to  them  ;  had  all  settled  down  here,  in  this  corner  of 
Loch  na  Craig.  All  that  Gil  saw  before  him,  was  a  vast 
319 


Austin  Elliot 

amphitheatre  of  smooth  white  snow ;  and  in  the  centre,  a 
patch  of  green  ice,  about  an  acre  in  extent.  The  sloping 
sides  of  snow  represented  the  noble  corrie ;  and  the  acre 
of  ice,  showing  in  the  middle,  was  all  that  was  to  be  seen 
of  the  five  hundred  acres  of  the  beautiful  Loch  na  Craig. 

He  saw  that  a  terrible  disaster  had  befallen.  One  little 
farm,  near  the  head  of  a  little  glen,  he  thought,  he  would 
force  his  way  to ;  the  chimney  was  yet  showing  above  the 
snow.  Alone,  fearless  of  the  deadly  snow  sleep,  bare- 
legged in  the  freezing  snow ;  he  forced  himself  to  the  door 
of  that  little  farm  house,  and  getting  no  answer,  he  broke 
it  in. 

They  were  all  dead.  The  old  folks  and  the  children 
had  died  before,  and  now  the  younger  men  and  women 
had  followed  them.  All  dead.  This  same  accident  had 
happened  before.  Corrie  na  Craig  had  been  filled  with 
snow ;  but  then,  the  huts  had  been  full  with  oatcake  and 
whiskey,  and  the  people  had  lived  to  make  a  joke  of  it. 
But  now,  the  peat  was  still  smouldering  on  the  hearth,  and 
Gil  found  six  of  them  dead.  These  people  had  died  more 
from  starvation  than  from  cold ;  and  there  were  three 
other  families  down  by  the  loch,  buried  fifty  feet  deep. 

Gil  called  out, "  was  any  one  alive  ?  "  first  in  a  low  tone, 
and  afterwards,  when  not  so  scared  at  the  sound  of  his 
own  voice,  in  a  louder.  He  got  no  answer.  He  sped 
away  to  the  village,  and  told  Mr.  Monroe,  and  the  Mac- 
Tavish,  that  there  were  forty  less  souls  on  the  island,  to 
starve. 

Austin's  fifty  pounds  had  done  good  service  at  the  be- 
ginning of  the  famine.  It  was  as  nothing  among  a  popu- 
lation of  two  thousand,  in  a  state  of  absolute  destitution, 
but  still  it  was  a  great  godsend.  Mr.  Monroe  hoped  for  all 
sort  of  things,  for  a  mild  winter,  for  Government  assist- 
ance, nay,  "  God  forgie  him,"  for  the  death  of  the  dow- 
ager, Mrs.  MacTavish,  who  had  retired  to  Clapham,  near 
London,  and  whose  death  would  put  another  ;^8oo  a  year 
at  the  MacTavish's  disposal.  But  it  was  no  use  hoping. 
320 


Austin  Elliot 

Austin's  fifty  pounds  was  gone,  and  things  got  worse  and 
worse,  and  he  wrote  to  the  MacTavish  to  come  to  him  at 
once. 

MacTavish  came  instantly.  He  looked  round  with  Mr. 
Monroe,  and  saw  what  a  disaster  was  impending.  He 
went  back  to  Argyleshire  at  once.  He  ordered  his  two 
sons  home  from  Cambridge,  and  told  Mrs.  MacTavish  to 
do  her  duty,  and  keep  the  creditors  at  bay :  to  scrimp, 
save,  and  borrow  every  farthing  she  could,  and  send  it  to 
him  in  Ronaldsay.  He  was  horribly  poor,  and  desperate- 
ly in  debt.  He  had  taken  no  rents  from  Ronaldsay  for 
years ;  but  the  Ronaldsay  people  were  flesh  of  his  flesh, 
and  bone  of  his  bone  ;  and  so  the  great  coarse  bare-legged, 
highland  giant,  came  back  to  them  in  their  trouble ;  to  live 
with  them,  and,  if  need  were,  to  die  with  them. 

"  Our  own  people,  Monroe.  Our  own  flesh  and  blood, 
Monroe." 

As  for  Mr.  Monroe,  he  well  earned  his  crown  of  glory 
in  this  terrible  winter,  even  if  by  long  continuance  in  well 
doing,  he  had  not  earned  it  before.  I  know  that  what  I 
have  just  written  will  be  called  by  some  people  heretical, 
but  it  shall  stand,  and  shall  be  repeated.  He  earned  his 
crown  ;  with  his  hair  growing  greyer  week  by  week ;  with 
the  people  that  he  had  loved  so  well  dying  round  him ; 
with  the  souls  which  he,  in  his  way  of  speaking,  would 
have  said  that  he  had  brought  to  Christ :  passing  away 
from  him  too  quickly  for  one  word  of  farewell ;  that  noble 
man  worked  on.  I  feel  that  I  am  unworthy  to  write  about 
such  a  man.  But  there  are  such  men.  If  I  did  not  know 
one  or  two  of  them,  I  would  not  have  dared  to  say  so 
much  about  Mr.  Monroe. 

Let  the  glorious  fellow  be.  Let  his  works  speak  for 
him.  He  is  no  fictitious  character,  though  I  have  altered 
his  name,  and  changed  his  locality.  There  was  another 
hero  developed  in  this  miserable  winter,  by  name  Gil  Mac- 
donald. 

His  restless  soul,  craving  eagerly  for  work,  of  which 
321 


Austin  Elliot 

there  was  none  to  be  got ;  settled  down,  concentrated  it- 
self, in  the  work  which  Mr.  Monroe  and  the  MacTavish 
put  before  him.  By  night  and  by  day,  through  frost  and 
through  snow,  he,  the  best  hill  walker  in  the  island,  sped 
swiftly  on  messages  of  help  and  charity.  But  all  the  Gil 
Macdonalds,  all  the  Mr.  Monroes,  all  the  MacTavishes  in 
the  world,  could  not  send  the  thermometer  up  above  freez- 
ing, and  so  the  people  died  on,  and  despair  began  to  set- 
tle down  on  all  of  them. 

Then  MacTavish 's  money  failed.  There  had  been  little 
enough  of  it  at  first,  for  he  had  contracted  heavy  debts,  to 
send  his  sons  to  Cambridge.  First,  he  heard  that  the 
bailiffs  were  in  his  castle.  Then  his  wife  wrote,  to  warn 
him  that  writs  were  out  against  him,  and  that  he  might  be 
taken.  Gil  Macdonald  heard  this,  and  merely  mentioned 
it  about  among  the  young  men  in  conversation.  They 
were  dull,  heartless,  and  desperate  enough,  these  young 
men,  but  it  would  have  been  a  bad  business  for  any  bailiff, 
who  had  tried  to  follow  MacTavish  to  Ronaldsay. 

"  Our  own  flesh  and  blood,  Gil.  Our  own  flesh  and 
blood." 

Things  went  on  from  bad  to  worse.  Wearily  each 
night  the  MacTavish  and  Mr.  Monroe  met,  only  to  tell 
each  other  of  some  new  disaster.  One  night  MacTavish 
refused  even  the  miserable  supper  which  he  and  Mr.  Mon- 
roe allowed  themselves,  and  walked  sulkily  up  and  down 
the  room.  At  last  he  broke  out.  He  threw  up  his  arms, 
and  clutched  his  hair  wildly  in  his  hands. 

"  I  will  not  bear  it,  Monroe  ;  I  will  not  bear  it." 

"  Be  quiet,  MacTavish  ;  dinna  rebel." 

"  I  tell  you  that  I  will  rebel,"  he  answered  furiously  ;  do- 
ing exactly  as  Austin  did  on  one  occasion.  "  I  tell  you 
that  I  will  not  bear  it.  I  tell  you  that  God  is  unrighteous, 
unjust,  vindictive.  I  have  done  enough  to  deserve  His 
anger,  but  these  poor  sheep,  what  have  they  done  ?  " 

"  Colin,  Colin  ! "  said  the  old  man,  throwing  himself 
down  before  him,  and  clasping  his  bare  knees,  "  dinna 
322 


Austin  Elliot 

blaspheme  in  your  wrath.  Trust  God,  and  think  that 
every  wild  word  uttered  now,  will  be  a  worm  to  eat  your 
heart  till  you  meet  him." 

"  I  will  not !  There  is  no  mercy  in  heaven !  My  own 
people  dying  like  dogs,  and  no  help.  I  tell  you  that  I  will 
curse  God  and  die  !  " 

"  Ye  may  curse  God,  but  ye'll  not  die,  my  ain  boy.  He 
will  punish  you  for  this.  He  will  let  you  live,  MacTavish, 
till  every  wild  word  you  have  uttered  just  now  will  be  a 
scorn  and  a  loathing  to  you,  till  you  see  your  folly  and 
wickedness,  and  beg  for  forgiveness." 

"  Words  !  words  !  What  is  the  use  of  cramming  one's 
ear  with  them  ?  I  am  hopeless  and  desperate,  I  tell  you. 
What  are  words  to  me  ?    Feed  my  people." 

"  Perhaps,  Colin,  by  a  little  patience  and  humiliation 
they  might  be  fed.     Will  you  listen  to  me  ?  " 

The  MacTavish  sat  down  and  listened,  and  as  he  did 
so,  his  face  grew  calmer.  At  last  he  said,  "  Say  no  more, 
Monroe.     I  were  worse  than  a  dog  if  I  did  not." 

He  wrote  the  following  curious  letter :  — 

"  Grandmother,  —  I  am  humbled.  I  am  humbled  by 
famine.  My  people  are  dying  here  like  sheep.  I  ask  for 
nothing  for  myself  —  I  only  beg  for  them. 

"  I  ask  your  forgiveness,  certainly.  I  was  in  the  wrong, 
let  us  say.  My  pride  is  so  broken,  that  I  will  allow  any- 
thing. You  will  gain  your  suit  about  the  farms  at  Inver- 
hadden.  I'm  a  ruined  man,  and  have  no  more  money  to 
spend  on  law. 

"  Send  me  a  thousand  pounds  worth  of  food  here  in- 
stantly. If  you  don't,  we  are  all  undone  ;  for  it  is  useless 
asking  my  mother.  Forgive  me  or  not,  grandmother,  but, 
in  God's  name  save  the  Ronaldsay  folk  ! 

"  MACTAVISH. 

**  To  the  dowager  Lady  Tullygoranty  Barrack  Lodge, 
Argyleshtre^' 

323 


Austin  Elliot 
To  which  Lady  Tullygoram  replied  — 

"  Ablins,  my  ain  Colin,  we  may  both  have  been  too  tena- 
cious of  our  rights.  A  body  does  na  like  to  see  herself 
wronged  out  of  her  own  dower  rights.  The  three  Inver- 
hadden  farms  have  gone  with  the  dower-lands  of  Tully- 
goram, for  sax  centuries,  and  I  was  no  justified,  in  the  in- 
terest of  future  dowagers,  in  giving  up  my  rights.  God 
kens,  my  bonny  boy,  I  bear  ye  no  ill-will. 

"  I  send  you  twa  hundred  pounds.  With  the  help  of 
God,  I  will  keep  the  Ronaldsay  folk  for  you  till  better 
times.  I  have  cleared  the  execution  out  of  your  castle,  and 
sent  the  two  lads  back  to  their  studies.  Though  what  the 
deil  garred  ye  send  them  to  a  cockney  university,  I  dinna 
ken. 

"  Elspeth  Tullygoram." 

So  poor  MacTavish  was  humbled,  and  prayed  to  be  for- 
given for  the  wild  words  he  had  used  in  his  madness  :  let 
us  hope  he  was  forgiven.  Better  times  began  to  dawn  on 
them  after  this ;  but  things  are  not  mended  all  at  once. 
When  the  tide  is  receding,  and  shipwrecked  men,  who 
have  clung  all  night  to  the  rock,  begin  to  hope  that  the 
worst  is  over,  and  that  their  way  to  the  shore  is  safe  ;  often 
there  comes  some  angry  receding  wave,  and  once  more 
washes  high  above  their  heads,  and  makes  them  despair 
again. 

So  it  was  with  the  Ronaldsay  famine.  The  MacTavish 
departed  at  the  end  of  January,  leaving  things  in  a  much 
better  state.  In  February  the  frost  broke,  and  then  the 
new  enemy  appeared  —  typhus,  bred  by  starvation  and 
hardship.  At  first  the  people  began  dying  nearly  as  fast 
as  in  the  famine  ;  then  it  got  better,  and  then  it  got  worse. 
Lady  Tullygoram  and  the  MacTavish  did  all  they  could  — 
tried  to  keep  a  population  of  two  thousand,  for  a  year; 
with  indifferent  success,  as  you  may  imagine.  When  the 
men  got  to  their  fishing  again,  the  island  got  more  cheer- 

324 


Austin  Elliot 

ful.  But  there  were  no  seed-potatoes.  The  last  money 
that  Lady  Tullygoram  could  scrape  together,  was  spent  in 
buying  seed-potatoes.  She  paid,  noble  old  body !  two 
hundred  and  seventy  pounds  for  them  in  Glasgow,  and 
sent  them  off  as  fast  as  they  could  be  bought.  The  Ron- 
aldsay  folk  got  them  all  into  the  ground  by  the  first  week 
in  April. 

Gil  Macdonald  waited  and  saw  the  potatoes  put  in.  He 
saw  them  come  up  ;  they  looked  bravely.  He  waited  still 
longer ;  everything  seemed  mending.  Then  he  started 
away,  and  came  south  to  London  to  find  Austin. 

They  began  to  dig  in  September :  they  were  all  rotten 
again  —  worse  than  last  year.  The  sun  began  to  south 
towards  another  winter  worse  than  the  last.  Lady  Tully- 
goram had  spent  every  farthing  she  had.  The  MacTavish 
was  as  good  as  ruined :  there  was  nothing  but  blank  de- 
spair before  them. 

A  Highland  Society  agent  came  over,  and  talked  to  them 
of  fair  lands  sixteen  thousand  miles  away.  Some  prepared 
to  go,  but  for  those  who  stayed  (for  only  a  few  could  go) 
what  a  prospect !  MacTavish  had  applied  for  the  Gov- 
ernment loan,  but,  as  he  said,  there  was  not  the  wildest 
probability  of  his  being  able  to  set  one  man  to  work  on  the 
money  before  next  spring.  Things  looked  blacker  than 
ever. 

Mr.  Monroe  preached  patience.  On  a  Sabbath-day  in 
November  he  preached  earnestly  and  almost  fiercely  to 
them.  •'  I  tell  you,"  he  said,  *'  not  to  rebel.  I  tell  myself 
not  to  despair.  I  tell  (say  you)  the  surf  not  to  moan  on 
the  reef ;  the  wind  not  to  whistle  through  the  heather ;  the 
burn  not  to  roar  in  the  linn.  Still  I  tell  you  to  be  patient 
—  you,  whose  children  have  died  before  your  eyes.  I  tell 
you  to  trust  in  God.  You  and  I  will  meet  at  his  throne, 
and  then  let  none  of  you  look  me  in  the  face,  and  say  that 
1  did  not  tell  you  this,  that  you  must  trust  in  God,  for  He 
cannot  be  unjust. 

"  Unjust !  Is  there  one  man  or  woman  in  this  church  to- 

325 


Austin  Elliot 

day  who  does  not  envy  those  who  have  gone  before  us, 
and  are  waiting  to  welcome  us — when  we  have  dreed  our 
weird  —  when  we  have  done  our  day's  work  —  when  this 
tyranny  is  overpast  ?  My  ain  people,  for  whom  I  have 
wrestled  night  and  day  in  prayer,  do  not  rebel.  The  rid- 
dle may  whiles  be  hard  to  read,  but  trust  God.  Do  I  pray 
for  rest  ?  No.  I  only  pray  that  I  may  be  spared  to  see 
the  end.  The  wild  winter  is  coming  down  on  us  once 
more.  Let  us  pray  that  we  may  win  through  it,  or,  if  not. 
that  we  may  die  trusting  in  God."  ' 

So  he  pleaded  to  them  on  the  November  Sabbath  ;  and 
in  the  evening,  in  solitude,  he  prayed  for  them  —  prayed 
as  he  had  done  the  year  before  —  that  the  cup  might  pass 
away. 

On  the  Monday  morning,  the  answer  to  his  prayer  came. 
Over  the  morning  sea,  across  the  Kyle,  from  the  main- 
land, a  boat  came  plunging  and  leaping  across  the  short, 
chopping  swell,  caused  by  the  meeting  of  the  tide  and  the 
south  wind.  The  boat  came  over  with  a  mail-bag,  and  in 
that  mail-bag  there  was  only  one  letter,  and  that  letter  was 
from  the  MacTavish  to  Mr.  Monroe. 

"  Dear  old  Friend, 

"  May  God  forgive  me,  if  I  have  done  wrong.  What 
could  I  do  ?  It  is  like  tearing  my  heart  out  by  the  roots. 
It  is  a  bitter,  bitter  dispensation. 

"  I  have  sold  the  island  of  Ronaldsay  to  an  Englishman. 
It  was  the  only  chance  of  saving  my  own  people  —  my 
own  no  longer  —  from  starvation. 

"  They  say  he  is  noble  and  generous.  He  is,  I  know, 
very  wealthy.  He  will,  with  his  wealth,  if  he  keeps  half 
his  promises,  make  the  island  a  prosperous  and  a  happy 
one.     I  have  no  heart  left  to  say  more. 

"  Yet  I  must  go  on.     You  must  be  gentle  with  him. 

You  must  tell  the  people  to  be  gentle  and  polite  to  him. 

You  know  how  proud  and  captious   these  English  are. 

Give  way  to  his  every  whim.     If  he  is  properly  flattered, 

326 


Austin  Elliot 

he  may  be  induced  to  settle  and  build  a  house  on  the 
island  ;  to  do  by  the  island  what  I,  God  forgive  me !  have 
never  been  able  to  do. 

"  He  will  be  with  you  directly,  Monroe.  Be  prepared. 
Get  him  to  settle  there.  The  pampered  Cockney  has  got 
some  whim  about  the  island.  Flatter  it.  Oh  God,  Mon- 
roe, that  it  should  have  come  to  this  ! " 

Mr.  Monroe  turned  to  the  few  old  peasants  who  were 
standing  round  him,  and  said  — 

"  Here  is  bitter  news.  The  MacTavish  has  sold  the 
island." 

"  And  us  with  it,"  said  the  eldest  of  them.  "  Aweel, 
things  could  be  no  waur.  But  hech,  sirs  !  For  a  MacTav- 
ish to  sell  his  ain  flesh  and  blude  to  the  Duke  of  Argyle  ! " 

"  It  is  not  the  Duke  of  Argyle.     It  is  an  Englishman." 

"  It  does  na  much  matter,"  said  the  old  man,  "  that  we, 
who  beat  the  dust  out  of  their  coats  so  brawly  at  Dunbar, 
should  be  bought  up  by  them,  body  and  banes,  like  kye." 

"  Which  battle  of  Dunbar  do  you  mean  ?  "  said  Mr. 
Monroe,  sharply.  "  You  seem  to  have  forgotten  either  the 
first  one,  or  the  one  which  we  call  Preston  Pans.  There 
were  twa  battles  by  Dunbar,  old  man.  Don't  be  a  fool. 
Come  home  with  me  ;  I  see  hope  in  this." 

So  he  did.  This  Englishman  had  money.  Englishmen 
were  noble  and  generous,  in  spite  of  their  airs  and  graces. 
So  Mr.  Monroe,  after  laying  his  head  on  the  table  and 
weeping,  because  the  MacTavish  was  no  longer  master  of 
the  island ;  raised  his  head  and  smiled,  because  the  island 
had  been  sold  to  an  Englishman  ;  who  was  very  likely  an 
insolent  and  exacting  person,  but  who,  at  all  events,  would 
take  care  that  his  tenantry  did  not  starve  during  the  next 
winter. 

Scotch  pride  is  harder  to  humble  than  even  English 
pride  ;  but  such  a  winter  as  1845 — 4^  will  humble  even  a 
Scotchman's  pride. 

God  forgive  Mr.  Monroe !  The  dear  man  went  as  near 
327 


Austin  Elliot 

—  well  —  fiction,  as  any  man  should.  He  did  not  know 
even  the  name  of  this  abominable  Englishman,  but  he 
represented  him  as  a  model  of  high-hearted  generosity. 
As  for  his  wealth  —  there  —  Mr.  Monroe  felt  justified  by 
representing  it  as  enormous,  but  unluckily  he  launched 
into  figures,  which  he  should  not  have  done ;  and  these 
figures  grew  under  his  hand,  and  got  beyond  his  control 
in  the  most  terrible  way.  Sometimes  he  "  harked  back," 
and  tried  to  make  them  smaller  by  ten  thousand  a  year  or 
so ;  but  the  Ronaldsay  people  did  not  like  that ;  and  so  at 
last  he  expressed  the  income  of  the  London  Shopkeeper  by 
waving  his  two  hands  abroad ;  as  much  as  to  say,  that 
your  figures  failed  to  express  the  immense  amount  of  in- 
come, of  this  Cockney  shopkeeper. 

At  this  same  time  Mr.  Monroe  committed  himself  to 
the  statement,  that  the  new  owner  of  Ronaldsay  was  a 
cheesemonger  —  and  what  was  more  awful  still,  a  cheese- 
monger in  Piccadilly.  Mr.  Monroe  denies  having  ever 
said  such  a  thing  ;  but  one  morning  he  was  taxed  with  it, 
and  instead  of  boldly  denying  the  matter  on  the  spot,  he 
weakly  gave  in  to  it,  and  prevaricated.  From  this  time  it 
was  an  accepted  fact,  that  the  island  had  been  bought  by 
a  cheesemonger  in  Piccadilly,  which  was  a  street  in  London. 
Mr.  Monroe  never  knew  how  this  happened,  but  the  folks 
were  in  a  state  of  excitement,  and  he  did  not  dare  to  con- 
tradict them.  He  went  about  like  a  guilty  man  —  hoping, 
for  his  soul's  sake,  that  some  one  might  have  told  him, 
that  it  was  a  cheesemonger  in  Piccadilly,  and  that  he 
might  have  forgotten  it.  He  knew  nothing  of  the  new 
owner  of  Ronaldsay  —  not  even  his  name  :  nothing,  save 
that  he  might  be  expected  any  day ;  therefore  this  astound- 
ing canard  about  the  cheesemonger  was  annoying.  His 
object  was  to  prepossess  the  people  in  favour  of  the  new 
owner,  and  to  get  that  new  owner  to  stay  on  the  island. 
At  this  time  the  good  man  was  overheard  to  wish,  that 
that  feckless  billie,  Gil  Macdonald,  had  stayed  at  hame, 
and  not  gone  daundering  down  South. 
328 


Austin  Elliot 

But  at  last  the  cheesemonger  from  Piccadilly  came,  and 
took  possession  of  his  property  after  this  manner :  — 

One  morning,  in  the  end  of  November,  five  or  six  days 
after  the  receipt  of  the  MacTavish's  letter,  it  was  reported 
to  him  that  a  steamer  had  rounded  the  south  point  of 
Donaldsay,  and  was  bearing  up  for  Ronaldsay.  She 
carried  no  pennant.  It  was  not  the  Shoals  and  Quick- 
sands Lords  coming  their  rounds.  This  was  your  cheese- 
monger coming  to  take  possession. 

So  it  was.  A  small  screw  steamer  came  up,  and  eased 
off  the  pier  of  Ronaldsay.  Mr.  Monroe  tumbled  into  a 
boat,  went  on  board,  and  clambered  into  the  waist. 

Some  one  came  forward  to  receive  him  —  Gil  Macdon- 
ald.  No  other.  Mr.  Monroe  started  back  ;  but  the  cheese- 
monger fiction  had  been  so  burnt  into  his  brain  by  repe- 
tition, that  he  said  — 

"  Why,  Gil,  ye  telled  me  in  your  letter  that  ye  were  in 
the  gun-making  trade  —  guns  and  cheeses  !  Is  your  mas- 
ter a  general  dealer,  then  ?  " 

He  passed  on  towards  the  cheesemonger  and  his  wife, 
who  stood  on  the  quarter-deck.  But  there  was  no  cheese- 
monger there :  Austin  Elliot  and  his  wife  Eleanor  stood 
before  him.  Austin  said,  "  Dear  Mr.  Monroe,  I  am  your 
new  landlord,  and  I  am  come  to  live  and  to  die  with  you." 
And  the  minister  cast  his  hat  on  the  deck  and  said,  "  God 
has  been  very  good  to  us,  Mr.  Elliot  —  God  has  been  very 
good  to  us." 

And  so  just  when  a  story  gets  to  be  worth  telling  it  has 
to  come  to  an  end.  I  have  told  you  how  Austin  Elliot, 
generous,  and  ambitious,  got  fed  on  wind  —  would  have 
gone.  Lord  knows  where,  if  it  had  not  been  for  his  dog. 
Now  that  he  has  developed  into  a  useful  man,  we  must 
leave  him.  The  story  of  the  work  which  he  and  Eleanor 
did  in  Ronaldsay  would  be  but  dull  reading. 

4(  >i<  *  4:  sH  # 

Once  more  the  morning  sun  rises  behind  the  hills  of 
Argyleshire  ;  once  more  the  summer's  morning  raises  the 
329 


Austin  Elliot 

peat-smoke  from  a  thousand  cottages,  in  ten  thousand 
purple  valleys ;  once  more  the  dawn  smites  the  peak  of 
Benmore  of  Ronaldsay,  and  creeps  down  ;  until  the  island 
awakens,  and  the  men  of  Ronaldsay  come  abroad  to  their 
labour. 

But  it  shines  on  a  new  Ronaldsay  now.  On  vast  tracts 
of  young  larch  plantations,  emerald  green,  among  the 
dark  heather ;  on  broad  yellow  patches  of  soil,  turned  up 
on  the  lower  hill-sides,  where  they  are  trenching  the  land 
for  agriculture ;  better  still,  on  sheets  of  rye  and  clover, 
giving  good  promise  of  a  noble  harvest.  No  more  famine, 
no  more  dull,  heart-gnawing  sorrow,  in  Ronaldsay  now. 
"  He  may  do  anything  with  Eleanor's  money,"  said  old 
Mr.  Hilton,  on  his  death-bed,  little  dreaming  what  he 
would  do  with  it ;  little  dreaming  that  his  ill-earned  money 
would  be  spent  in  making  the  desert  of  Ronaldsay  to  blos- 
som like  a  rose. 

See  the  morning  comes  lower  yet,  and  lower,  until  it 
shines  strong  and  full  on  a  new  castle,  built  on  the  rise 
behind  the  village  ;  on  a  broad  stone  terrace ;  on  a  little 
dark  lady  who  walks  abroad  in  the  dew  to  look  at  her 
flowers,  and  leads  a  brave  little  lad,  of  three  years  old,  by 
the  hand. 

A  peaceful,  calm  little  lady,  dressed  all  in  gray.  She 
says  to  the  toddling  boy,  "  Come  on,  Charles  ;  let  us  be 
ready  to  meet  father  as  he  comes  from  the  hill ! "  and 
presently  Austin  comes  brushing  through  the  heather 
towards  her,  and  takes  his  boy  in  his  arms  ;  so  he  and 
Eleanor  walk  slowly  home  along  the  terrace. 

Who  are  these  aloft  here,  on  the  windy  mountain,  in 
the  morning  air?  A  strange  pair.  One  is  a  gigantic 
man,  a  kilted  Highlander,  with  a  square  thoughtful  face, 
who  is  leaning,  in  repose,  against  a  rock  ;  the  other  is  also 
a  tall  man,  but  stone-blind,  who  turns  and  feels  in  the 
dark  for  his  companion,  though  the  level  sun  is  blazing 
on  his  face. 

"  And  so  ye're  no  going  to  leave  us,  my  lord,"  says  the 
330 


Austin  Elliot 

Highlander.  "  Dinna  leave  us,  my  lord ;  you  have  made 
yourself  a  necessity  to  us.  I  never  flattered  any  man 
born  of  woman  ;  but  I  must  say  this  much,  you  would  be 
sair  missed  in  Ronaldsay.  Why  the  bairns  would  greet, 
and  the  dogs  would  howl,  if  they  missed  your  kind  dark 
face,  at  the  quay  end,  when  the  boats  come  hame.  Dinna 
gang  South,  my  Lord,  into  that  weary  hurly-burly,  with 
a'  its  Whiggeries,  and  Toryisms,  and  Papistries.  Stay 
with  them  that  love  you,  and  play  on  your  bonny  new 
harp." 

"  I  think  I  will  live  and  die  in  Ronaldsay,  Gil,"  said  the 
blind  man.  "  It  is  kind  of  you  to  lead  me  up  here.  I  am 
looking  towards  the  sun,  now,  for  there  is  something  in 
my  eyes,  which  I  think  must  be  light ;  I  must  be  looking 
towards  those  purple  mountains  on  the  mainland,  you  tell 
me  of.  I  love  to  look  towards  the  east,  Gil ;  for  the 
light  which  will  open  my  eyes,  and  show  me  the  faces  of 
those  I  have  loved  so  well,  will  come  from  thence,  on  the 
morning  of  the  Resurrection." 

So  Lord  Edward  Barty  and  Gil  Macdonald  stood  on  the 
shoulder  of  Benmore,  and  looked  eastward ;  while  Robin 
the  dog  sat  like  a  statue  among  the  heather  at  their  feet, 
and  looked  eastward  also.  And  so  the  whole  story  comes 
to  an  end. 


THE  END. 


331 


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